


Finding What He Lost

by orderlychaos



Series: The Cerberus Conspiracy [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Kidnapping, M/M, Spoilers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-08-03
Packaged: 2017-11-08 18:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t wanted to believe it then and he still didn’t want to believe it now.  Clint had never felt more like a broken shadow of a man, which was almost fitting in a way.  He’d left the safety of Stark Tower and Nat and the rest of SHIELD and the Avengers to chase a ghost halfway around the world.  Even without a body, no one believed that Phil Coulson could have survived being stabbed in the chest and twenty-five seconds of grainy surveillance footage hadn’t been able to convince them otherwise.  Clint didn’t know if it was grief or the left over insanity from Loki’s brainwashing, but he’d been convinced that Phil had somehow survived.</p><p>He had to be alive.</p><p>Clint goes searching for Phil and finds its harder than it appears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Description of beatings and mentions of off-screen torture. Also, there are descriptions of violence and a few curse words. If there is anything I’ve missed or I need better warnings, please let me know.

Clint Barton couldn’t stop the grunt of pain as a beefy fist was slammed into his stomach.  Above him, a lone line bulb swung lazily on a cord, the dim light bouncing off cracked and stained concrete walls and making the shadows swim sickeningly.  Or maybe that was just Clint’s head wound.  He wasn’t sure anymore.

Time and pain had slowly started to lose their meaning, so Clint wasn’t sure how long it had been since his captors had dragged him into the room and chained him to the chair, but his shoulders were cramping painfully and he’d had lost feeling in his fingers.  Dried blood caked the side of his face and his skin was mottled with bruises, both old and new.

They’d dosed Clint up on some sort of drug before they’d started interrogating him and even now Clint could feel it swimming through his veins.  He had no idea what kind of drug it was, but so far it hadn’t seemed to have done anything except make him a little woozy.  It was probably some sort of designer hallucinogen meant to make Clint question his own sanity and give them all the answers they wanted.

If they’d asked him, Clint would have told them to save themselves the trouble.  He’d left sanity behind in an empty grave two weeks ago.

Clint coughed painfully as the air was driven from his lungs by another fist slamming into his stomach.  Drawing in a ragged breath, he tried to ignore the hot agony that raced through his body and the cold laughter of his captors.  He felt one of them yank his head backwards painfully by his hair before the sharp prick of a needle pierced his skin.  “Let’s see if another dose makes you more cooperative,” one of the thugs growled in heavily-accented English, but Clint did little more than moan as the drug started taking affect.

_Focus, Barton._ Clint blinked in an effort to clear his vision, the little voice in the back of his head sounding a lot like Phil.

Oh, God.  _Phil_.

Clint squeezed his eyes shut, his nose suddenly filled with the cloying scent of lilies.  It caught in the back of his throat, mixing with the smell of damp earth and images of pale lilies lying on dark wood danced behind his closed eyelids.  Clint could feel the cold bite of the air seeping past his skin and sinking into his bones as if he was reliving the moment and not just the memory. 

When he opened his eyes, Clint wasn’t in the cell anymore.  Instead, he could feel the wet grass beneath his bare feet and the late afternoon sunlight that did nothing to warm his skin.  Helplessly, he watched the dark-wood coffin slowly lowered into the ground, still surrounded by the too-sweet scent of lilies.  The goddamn _empty_ coffin, because Clint hadn’t even been able to bury the body of the man he’d loved.  What had been left of Phil had disappeared in a flash of blue just after he’d been pronounced dead and Clint hadn’t even been able to see him to say goodbye.  He fucking _hated_ magic.  Hot tears streamed down his cheeks and Clint was too lost in the memory to tell if they were real or not.

Clint grunted and let out a hiss of pain as a boot slammed into the chair he was sitting on, sending him crashing to the floor and breaking the hold his memories had on his mind.  His vision swam for a long moment as he clenched his jaw against the urge to black out, shards of agony running through his head, but he took comfort in the fact that all he could see were cracked concrete walls.  He heard one of his captors cursing him, but Clint refused to give them the satisfaction of making a sound.

In an effort to keep himself from sinking back into the torment of his memories, Clint concentrated on the pain of his physical injuries.  He started with the ones he could barely feel: a split lip and heavy bruising across his abdomen and jaw from repeated hits from beefy fists.  His other injuries continually throbbed like annoying background music, but not even the heavy blow to his head or long, deep cut on his right thigh or the shallow, painful cuts decorating his naked chest compared to the screaming agony that had settled deep inside his ribs ever since Nat had told him Phil was dead.

He hadn’t wanted to believe it then and he still didn’t want to believe it now.  Clint had never felt more like a broken shadow of a man, which was almost fitting in a way.  He’d left the safety of Stark Tower and Nat and the rest of SHIELD and the Avengers to chase a ghost halfway around the world.  Even without a body, no one believed that Phil Coulson could have survived being stabbed in the chest and twenty-five seconds of grainy surveillance footage hadn’t been able to convince them otherwise.  Clint didn’t know if it was grief or the left over insanity from Loki’s brainwashing, but he’d been convinced that Phil had somehow survived.

He had to be alive; Clint _needed_ Phil to be alive.

Clint let out a tortured yell though his clenched jaw as a booted foot connected with his thigh wound, a haze questions being barked at him that Clint just couldn’t focus on.  For a moment, the room flickered blue and Clint felt everything in his soul screaming before his vision cleared and everything went back to normal.  Or as normal as it could ever get.  There was still a part of Clint that didn’t think he’d ever be free of what Loki had done to him; of what Loki had taken from him.

Consciousness greyed and the words above him blurred again as Clint’s body arched painfully at the sharp bite of electricity from the stun gun.  His muscles clenched and spasmed, sending a burning agony through him and it took everything Clint had left to stubbornly hang onto consciousness.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there before he realised his captors had left him alone.  Time blurred again and Clint felt his eyes slid shut even as he prayed his memories would leave him alone.  He just had to hold on a little bit longer.  They would send someone important to interrogate him soon and then Clint would get his answers.

Clint jerked awake from his daze when he heard a metallic screech echo through his prison.  His eyes immediately glanced towards the door, which was sliding open.  Three men entered the cell and a moment later, Clint felt rough hands ruthlessly dragging his chair upright again.  He remained silent, despite the pain and the questions the men threw at him, ignoring them as best as he could until one of the men stepped forward.

The light glinted off the military dogtags the man wore around his neck like a trophy and Clint felt something inside him freeze.  His eyes fixed on the metal, Clint’s heart skipped a beat and adrenaline flooded through his battered body, urging him to _take-kill-move-now_.  His sharp eyes easily picked out the name and rank carefully inscribed on the dogtags.  He’d seen the name up close as they’d lain, skin-warmed, on Phil’s chest.

Oh, God.  It was all _true._

Phil _had_ been here.

Only the training that had been drilled into Clint over the years had kept him from surging to his feet and blowing his advantage.  He had to be patient, to wait for the right moment.  A calm unlike anything Clint had felt in weeks settled over him and he was hyperaware of every movement, breath and twitch the thugs around him made.  Slowly, Clint dragged his eyes back up to the face of his interrogator and away from the dogtags that hung around the man’s neck.

 “Tell me, Agent Barton, what did you hope to gain by coming here?” the man growled.

Clint didn’t answer the question.  Instead, he simply gave his interrogator a cold, sharp smile and waited for his moment.  “I told you,” one of the thugs in the back muttered.  “He’s crazy.”

The second Clint felt the chains around his wrists go slack, he lunged to his feet.  Startled, the man in front of Clint stumbled backwards, cursing, as the other thugs all attempted to reach for their weapons, but Clint was too fast.  He caught the thug to his left by the arm, kicked out his knee and slammed him into the concrete wall before the others could react.  As the thug slid to the floor, unconscious, Clint dodged a second thug, grabbed the wrist and gun of a third and forced the weapon towards his face.  The bullet the thug intended for Clint ended up in his own head instead.

The rest of fight was fast and brutal.  He whirled away from the thug trying to stab him, elbowing him in the temple as Clint moved around him, before kicking his legs out from under him.  His jaw smashed down on the edge of the small metal table in the corner of the room, even as Clint knocked out the final thug with a punishing kick to his stomach and a hard elbow to the back of his head.

Clint felt his chest heave as he struggled to calm his breathing and the rage that was gripping him and stared down the final man in the room.  His former interrogator was clearly shocked, but the hand holding the gun pointed at Clint was steady.  “How… how did you do that?” his interrogator demanded.

Cocking his head to the side, Clint watched him and the dogtags he still wore around his neck.  “Did you really think I couldn’t have gotten out of those chains hours ago?” he said, his voice rough with disuse and absent of what many people claimed was his characteristic snark.

In a lightning fast move, Clint pivoted away from the gun and smashed an elbow towards the man’s face.  He disarmed the man in a quick move, before slamming him backwards into the concrete wall, his forearm across the man’s throat.  Clint watched the man’s eyes widen in fear as he slid the stolen gun under the chain of the dogtags and held them up to the light.  “If you want to live,” Clint said, “you’d better start talking.  Where is the man these belong to?”

Clint wasn’t sure if it was his words or some expression on his face, but he felt the man shudder in fear.  The man’s eyes flickered beyond Clint to the bodies of his comrades before he looked back at Clint again.  “And why should I believe you won’t just kill me anyway?” he asked.

For a moment, Clint felt his gaze cloud with rage.  He wanted to storm and scream and break things because this man was standing between him and finding _Phil_.  They were wasting time and Clint wasn’t sure how much of it he had left.  With a growl of frustration, Clint hit the man hard in the temple with the butt of his stolen gun and stepped back as the man slumped to the floor.  He might not have been a spy like Nat, but he’d been her friend and a SHIELD agent for long enough to know there were other ways to get the information he wanted.

Kneeling beside the man’s unconscious body, Clint reached out to strip the dogtags from him and was surprised to see how badly his hand was shaking.  As his fingers closed over the metal and his thumb traced out the familiar pattern of Phil’s name, Clint had to close his eyes against the sudden burn of tears.  He’d spent so long needing to believe that Phil was alive, now that he finally had some tangible proof the rush of relief was like a narcotic.  He took a shuddering breath and finally felt the iron band suffocating his lungs fall away.

Scrubbing the tears from his face with the back of his hand, Clint kept the dogtags gripped tightly in his hand and stood.  He had to focus on getting out of here and to do that he’d need to find the rest of his gear.  All he had were the cargo pants they’d left him in, the stolen gun and Phil’s dogtags.  He needed his bow at the very least.

Clint slipped out of the interrogation room on silent feet, only to discover most of his gear piled on a table just outside the room.  He felt his eyebrows rise in surprise.  He’d known before he’d come that this was an old, mostly disused HYRDA bunker, but he was still surprised at just how sloppy the soldiers still here really were.  Deciding not to question his stroke of luck too deeply, Clint shoved his feet back into his boots and pulled his black t-shirt over his head, ignoring the pain of his cuts and bruises.  He’d deal with them later.

Carefully, he settled Phil’s dogtags around his neck, the cool metal against his skin a comfort.  He shoved his stolen gun into his pants at the small of his back and shouldered his quiver, before reaching for his bow.  Almost immediately at the touch, something in Clint eased.

From there, it wasn’t hard to slip through the dim shadows of the HYDRA base.  Clint tried to recall the blueprints he’d studied of the layout, but he’d been unconscious when they’d brought him in and he wasn’t entirely sure where he was.  The mission had supposed to have been simple.  A few days ago, one of JARVIS’ searches had come across some grainy surveillance footage not too far from the bunker and Clint had immediately recognised Phil’s figure.  The nagging feeling that Phil was still alive that Clint had felt since Phil’s funeral had solidified into something sharp and needy and all Clint had been able to think of had been getting to Prague and _finding him_.

In his impulsive rush, he hadn’t studied the security protocols for the bunker well enough and he’d been grabbed by HYDRA thugs about twenty minutes in.  Considering Clint now wore Phil’s dogtags against his skin, he couldn’t really find he cared too much about that.

Scanning the walls around him, Clint felt his mouth curve up into a smirk as he saw a covered vent not even halfway up the wall.  Now that was just _asking_ for trouble.  Even with his injuries and his bow, it wasn’t hard to enter and move around the vent system.  After that, it was a simple process of searching and climbing for Clint to find what he was looking for.

He dropped down out of the vent system on silent feet and two quick arrows dealt with the guards in what looked like some sort of server room.  Clint didn’t really care what it was, except for the small computer in the corner.  Using every trick Nat and Phil had taught him, Clint broke through the password and pulled up the information he wanted.

For a minute, as he looked at the screen, Clint’s vision blurred and all he could see was the dark blood stain on dull metal where Loki had stabbed Phil and Phil had _died_ and it was only Clint’s tight grip on his thigh wound and the sharp stab of pain that allowed him to shake off the memory.  Clint didn’t know if it was still the drugs or something leftover from what Loki had done to him.  The SHIELD shrinks had tried to get him to talk about it, but he hadn’t seen the point.  Crazy or not, Phil would still have been gone.

His vision flickered blue for a sickening moment, before it cleared again and Clint could focus back on the screen.  The report was sort and to the point; three weeks ago there had been a disturbance in one of the prisoner holding cells.  A man had somehow appeared in one of the cages.  He’d been unconscious and his only form of identification was a SHIELD badge and a pair of dogtags.

Clint felt his heart pound as he realised that somehow Phil had reappeared in a _HYDRA bunker_ after disappearing from the helicarrier.  There was an attached file to the report and when Clint opened it, he found it was a video that looked like it had come from some sort of internal security camera in the bunker.  The timestamp in the corner showed it was from the day Phil had disappeared.

The camera was fixed on a small cage with a pale, thin blonde woman lying in the centre of it.  The bars of the cage flickered with some sort of energy and as Clint’s eyes took in the scene, he realised that whatever energy surrounded the cage was coming from the small device in the corner that pulsed with blue light.  A shudder went through Clint as he instinctively recognised the source of the light; it looked exactly like the centre of Loki’s spear and the Tesseract.

A bright blue flash of light engulfed the camera and Clint squinted against it until it receded.  When it did, Clint had to stop himself from reaching out and touching the screen because the unmistakable body of Phil Coulson was lying next to the woman in the centre of the cage.  His white shirt was stained red with his blood and he wasn’t moving and Clint had to take in a deep, shuddering breath in order not to lose it right then and there.

He watched with a helpless kind of shock as the blonde woman pulled herself up enough to look at Phil.  Her hand shook as it reached out to check Phil’s pulse and Clint almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  He had not come this far to learn that Phil had died anyway.  But as he kept staring at the screen, he saw the blonde woman’s shaking hand move down to settle on Phil’s chest right above where Clint knew Loki had stabbed him.

And then the woman’s hand began to _glow_.

It wasn’t the sickening blue of the Tesseract or Loki’s spear and it wasn’t the green of Loki himself.  Instead whatever she was doing glowed a pure, bright white and seconds later, Phil arched upwards gasping for breath.  Clint gave a choked laugh, barely able to register the fact that somehow the woman had _saved_ Phil, before the image on the screen changed.

This time, the view wasn’t of the cage and Phil was on his feet.  A quick glance at the timestamp showed it was dated a week ago – right before Clint had found his own grainy proof that Phil was alive.  Clint watched with a sense of relief and pride as Phil fought his way out of the bunker, the blonde woman behind him.  The HYDRA soldiers were no challenge to Phil, even in his weakened state, and Clint found himself laughing as Phil and his companion burst out of the bunker, the footage caught on one of the outside cameras.

It was a shock to watch the large black SUVs pull up in front of him and grab both Phil and the blonde a second later, right before the footage went black.  Clint blinked for a long moment at the computer screen, feeling numb after the rollercoaster of emotions he’d been though over the last half an hour.  The tactical part of his brain was already cataloguing the facts as he knew them: Phil had been somehow transported to a HYDRA base, probably because the base held some sort of link to the Tesseract.  Phil had been saved by a blonde woman and they’d both then been kidnapped by someone as soon as they’d made it out of the HYDRA bunker, which meant someone had been waiting for them.

Clint scanned the report for a clue to who it was, but it seemed that HYDRA didn’t know either.  _Subject lost.  Kidnappers unknown._   With a numb sort of calm, Clint realised he had nothing to copy the information to, so he hurriedly sent a copy of the report and the footage to one of his old dummy email accounts and hoped that he’d either be able to access it later or Tony or JARVIS would be smart enough to pick it up.

It was easy enough for Clint to steal a hooded jacket and a bag to hide his bow and quiver as he made his way out of the bunker, his mind still spinning with everything he’d learnt and his unsteady emotions hidden by that strange numb calm.  It could almost be any other mission Clint had been on if it wasn’t for the way his heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest.

On instinct, Clint faded into the shadows of the early morning as he reached the outside of the bunker, somewhere on the outskirts of Prague.  He avoided the cameras and his gaze was sharp as he watched his surroundings just in case the same people who had kidnapped Phil were still watching.  Part of Clint wanted to go immediately back to SHIELD and have them help figure out who’d taken Phil, but he knew he couldn’t.  Fury hadn’t exactly been happy with Clint when he’d left.

Instead, Clint decided to do the next best thing.  He had no idea what Tony or Nat or even Captain America’s phone number was and he’d left his own phone back at Stark Tower just in case SHIELD (or Tony) had tried to track him through it.  What he did remember was the phone number to Phil’s private office line and somebody at SHIELD would have to be monitoring it.  At the first payphone he saw, Clint dialled the number and listened to the phone ring in his ear.

“Deputy Director Hill,” the voice greeted on the third ring.

Clint was so surprised at the familiar voice, he sagged against the side of the phone booth and took a couple of deep breathes.  “Hello?” Agent Hill tried again when he didn’t answer, her voice going sharp with irritation.

“Hey, Agent Hill,” Clint said, his voice still gravelly.

Hill’s reaction was almost comical.  “Barton?” she snapped.  “Where the hell are you?  No, don’t answer that.  The Director doesn’t want to know.  Just for God’s sake call Agent Romanov and tell her…”

For the first time in a very long time, Clint’s mouth curved into his usual knowing smirk.  “I’d say I was sorry about disappearing like that, but I’m not,” he said, cutting off the end of Hill’s rant.

Hill snorted.  “Of course you’re not,” she said flatly.  “So what did you call for?”

“Just tell Fury I was right,” Clint said.  “He’s alive.”

There was a moment of shocked silence on the other end of the line.  “He’s alive.  Coulson’s _alive_?” Hill said.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed.  “He's alive.  I don't know exactly where he is right now, but I’m going to find him.”

Clint hung up the phone before Agent Hill could say anything else.  He knew it was only a matter of time before SHIELD no doubt descended on Prague and Clint needed to be gone by then.  SHIELD would want to debrief and question Clint and some instinct of his was telling him he didn’t have time for that.

Not when he had Phil to find.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, less warning on this chapter thankfully. I'm kind of writing this as I go, but I've been inspired so far, so hopefully for those of you reading it won't be too long between chapters :)

 

_I would tear the world apart to get to you_.

Clint jerked awake from a nightmare, the words echoing through his head.  His heart was pounding and his chest heaving as he fought for breath and Clint could feel the cold chill on his sweat-soaked skin.  With a sigh, Clint sank back down onto the bed and ran a hand over his face.

Ever since Nat had told him Phil was dead after the battle with the Chitauri, Clint’s sleep had been plagued with nightmares.  Some of them were twisted, blue-tinged versions of what he’d done under Loki’s control, a tangled mess of watching himself hurt his friends over and over again.  Some were worse, because he dreamt of Phil.  Reliving the memories of the good times was even more painful that anything Loki could have come up with and each time Phil’s face haunted his dreams made Clint wake up with the urge to cry.

But this one – this one had been the worst kind.  It hadn’t been a nightmare from being controlled by Loki or a memory of eating dinner with Phil at their favourite Italian place.  This time, all Clint had seen was Phil dressed in pale grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt pacing around a small, glass-walled cell.  He’d been pale and thinner than Clint’s remembered, and no matter how much Clint had talked and yelled and screamed, Phil hadn’t been able to hear him.  It had felt so _real_ and if Clint didn’t know better, he would have sworn it _had been_ real, rather than a nightmare from his twisted, broken mind.  Every instinct and feeling Clint had had been urging Clint to put his arms around Phil and tell him everything was going to be okay.  The expression on Phil’s face still haunted Clint even though he was awake; it was a desperate expression of helpless confusion, with none of Phil’s usual deadpan mask to hide his emotions from the world.

Knowing he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep now, Clint forced his exhausted and battered body out of bed and into the shower.  It had been two days since Prague and even after the HDYRA bunker and searching for clues and driving ten hours to his safehouse, or rather safe-apartment, in Paris, he’d still barely managed more than two hours sleep in a row since he’d gotten here.  Clint wasn’t sure what was worse – the fact that he’d found no sign of Phil’s kidnappers in Prague before SHIELD had shown up or the fact that he still couldn’t sleep.  A group that organised shouldn’t be invisible – not even SHIELD was that good.  There was always a sign, a trace, except this time, there was nothing.

Maybe he’d gotten soft while he was at SHIELD or maybe seeing Phil’s face in his dreams was just reminding him that Phil wasn’t right there next to him, but Clint had never felt more helpless and alone; not in the orphanage or in the circus or even on the streets.

Dawn was barely colouring the sky when Clint climbed out of the shower and while he knew he should be getting ready to hit the streets and try and find someone who knew something about Phil’s disappearance, he couldn’t quite manage it yet.  So instead, Clint pulled on a pair of worn jeans and an old hoodie of Phil’s that he’d stolen a while ago.  The hoodie was soft and warm and God, it still smelt like Phil.  Carefully, he curled up on the cushioned ledge by the window, peering out at the streets below through a gap in the curtains.  He rested his head back against the wall and curled one of his arms around his bent knees, his other hand coming up fiddle with the dogtags he wore around his neck; ever since he’d found them, Clint hadn’t once taken them off.  The letters stamped into the skin-warmed metal gave him a small sort of comfort.

“God, Phil, I miss you so much,” he whispered into the silent room.

Clint stayed sitting at the window for a long time.  As the sun rose, he watched as the empty street started filling with people on their way to work and other places just like he should be, but even so, he couldn’t make himself move.  He was just so tired and alone.  It was the kind of mood where he was lost in his own head and usually Phil or Nat were the only ones who could pull him out of it.

Movement on the street below caught Clint’s attention and he watched in mild surprise as a sleek, silver Audi pulled into a parking space right in front of his apartment building.  When a familiar redhead climbed out of the driver’s seat, Clint cursed even as part of him felt glad.  He should have known after his call to Agent Hill that Natasha would try to track him down.  She also knew about his place in Paris because he’d told her about it once and Clint should have known she’d turn up here sooner rather than later, if to do nothing more than kick his ass.  Natasha had never like it when he’d pulled his disappearing trick on her.  She always liked to remind him that he’d been given opposable thumbs and the ability to text message for a reason – and not just to play Angry Birds.

What Clint hadn’t been expecting _at all_ however was the figure of Tony freakin’ Stark climbing out of the passenger seat a moment later.  Clint wasn’t sure how to process that.

Figuring a confrontation was inevitable, Clint stayed curled up where he was and waited for Natasha to break in.  He could have been nice and opened the door for her, but she knew how to use a pair of lock picks and besides, she’d brought Tony freakin’ Stark with her – even if he appeared to be staying with the car for now.  Knowing Tony, the car was probably somehow his anyway.  It looked expensive enough for it.

“Clint?”

Clint didn’t even blink when he finally heard Nat walk into the room.  His sightless gaze was still fixed on streets below and Tony, who was leaning against the car, sunglasses covering his eyes and an impatient expression on his face.  Truthfully, Clint was impressed he’d stayed put this long.

Finally, Clint took a deep breath and lifted his eyes to look at Natasha.  When he did, he was shocked at her appearance.  Her skin was even paler than usual and there were dark shadows under her eyes that rivalled Clint’s own.  For a moment, Clint was flooded with guilt because Natasha had grieved for Phil too and he’d all but abandoned her when he’d disappeared to chase a ghost halfway around the world.  She hovered in the doorway as if she didn’t know if she’d be welcome and Clint was to blame for that too.  She was his best friend and he hadn’t even breathed a word to her before he’d left to look for Phil.

“You here to kick my ass?” he asked; his voice was rough and gravelly with exhaustion and pain and for a moment he barely recognised it as his.

Natasha took a few steps into the room and gave Clint an assessing look.  It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t angry either, so Clint would take what he could get.  “I’m here to bring you home,” she said softly.

Clint turned back to the window and shut his eyes, trying to will back the flood of emotions at the words.  He was more grateful that he could ever admit to have a friend like Nat after everything they’d both been through, but at the same time, he couldn’t go home either.  New York was just a city that didn’t have Phil and until Clint could find him, he wasn’t going anywhere.  Home wasn’t a place, not anymore.  Home was Phil.

“You haven’t been sleeping, have you?” Nat’s voice sounded closer, but Clint didn’t open his eyes to check; he trusted Natasha more than he trusted anyone but Phil.

“No,” he replied quietly.  “If it isn’t Loki in my nightmares, it’s Phil.”

“Oh, Clint,” she said sadly and Clint blinked open his eyes when her arms curled around him in a protective hug.  He sank gratefully back against her, enjoying the feeling of finally not being so alone, and she laid her head carefully on his.  “You’ve got to stop doing this.  You’ve got stop chasing a ghost.  It will destroy you.”

“He’s alive.”  The words were out before Clint had even consciously thought of them.  “He’s not a ghost.  He’s _alive_.”

“Clint…” Natasha began, but Clint wasn’t sure he could take her well-meaning words anymore.

Wordlessly, he reached underneath the hoodie and pulled out Phil’s dogtags.  He held them up so they caught the dim light coming in through the slight gap in the curtains.  Nat was close enough that she could see the name stamped on them.  Clint heard her gasp softly.  “I found them on a HYDRA goon,” he said in a whisper, before he turned to see Natasha’s pale and frozen face; her eyes were glued to the dogtags, knowing just as well as Clint what they meant.  “You really think I would have told Fury he was alive without proof?” he added.  “I know what it sounds like, Nat.  Hell, half the time even _I’m_ convinced I’m crazy.”

Tentatively, Nat reached out to trail a finger down Phil’s name.  Clint had never seen her so hesitant before so he did the only thing he could think of.  He slipped his other arm around her waist and pulled her close.  “I’m not going crazy, right?” he whispered into her shoulder.

“No.  You’re not crazy,” she said.  “We’re going to find him and then we’re going to make the people who took him _pay_.”

For a moment, Clint stayed like that, leaning on Natasha’s strength as her words sank in.  Tension unknotted in Clint’s shoulders, because with Nat on his side there was no way they weren’t going to find Phil.  Even if they had to take the world apart to do it.

“So, why’d you bring Stark?” Clint asked as Nat pulled away.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged.  “He wouldn’t let me borrow the jet unless he came with,” she replied.  Then her expression turned serious again.  “He’s worried about you.  We all are.”

“Nat…” Clint began, but he was interrupted by the loud arrival of Tony Stark, because apparently genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropists couldn’t enter buildings subtlety.  Clint had heard all about the first confrontation between Captain America and Tony Stark from Nat and he’d been sorry he missed it.

Whatever greeting had been on his lips died when Stark caught sight of Clint and he saw Stark’s eyebrows rise above his sunglasses.  “Wow, Barton.  You look like _shit_ ,” he said.

“Thanks, Stark,” Clint said dryly.  “Really.”

“No, seriously,” Stark continued, pulled down his sunglasses as if to get a better look.  “What happened?  Did you go on a three day bender and then get into a bar fight or something?”

Clint shot a confused look at Natasha, who shrugged in reply.  “Bruises,” she said.

“Oh,” Clint said, realising his jaw was covered in angry black bruises from one of the HYDRA thugs.  “No, those I got from trying to break into a HYDRA base.”

“Without backup,” Natasha added, her tone clearly suggesting it had been one of Clint’s more stupid idea.  Clint couldn’t really disagree, even if he would hesitate to do it all again, because he’d found _Phil_ doing it.

“Is that some kind of weird holiday for SHIELD super-spies?” Stark asked, his posture relaxed as he leant against the doorway, but his eyes were sharp.  “Because if you really wanted to take a holiday, I like own and island somewhere and its far more relaxing to sit on a beach and have people bring you drinks.”  He paused for a beat.  “At least, I think I still own an island.  Pepper might have sold it when she was mad at me.  Not that it matters.  I’ll just buy another one.”

Clint blinked for a minute, because not _once_ in his life had anyone offered to buy an _island_ so he could take a holiday.  Even considering the weird shit he saw on a regular basis as part of SHIELD, that was weird.  And a completely and utterly a Tony Stark thing to do.

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” he said a little awkwardly, because despite the fact that they’d saved the world together, most of what Clint knew about Tony Stark he’d heard from Phil and he still didn’t know what to make of the man.

Clint’s fingers moved down to fiddle with the dogtags again, because even though Phil was alive, it still hurt to think about him.  Clint didn’t think it would get easier until Phil was right back where he was supposed to be – in Clint’s life and by his side, being badass in a Dolce suit.

Stark’s eyes followed Clint’s movements and Clint saw the other man’s eyebrow raise in question when he saw the dogtags.  “I didn’t know they trained archers in the Army,” he said and Clint could feel the Robin Hood joke coming.

“They’re not mine,” he interrupted quietly before Stark could get the joke out.  “They’re Phil’s.”

“Phil’s?” Stark said, blinking in surprise.  “As in Agent Coulson?”

“Yeah,” Clint replied.

He could almost see the thoughts that moved like a whirlwind through Stark’s brain as he put things together.  Surprise widened his eyes briefly, before his expression softened into something both sympathetic and full of an understanding that Clint would have sworn Tony Stark wasn’t capable of.  “He was a lot more than just your handler, wasn’t he?” Stark said.

“He still is,” Clint corrected and sent Stark a sharp-edged glare when he opened his mouth to say something.  “Phil’s alive.  I pulled these,” he continued, pausing to tap the dogtags around his neck with a finger, “off a HYDRA goon two days ago.”

Stark’s eyes widened again.  “Shit.  You’re the reason SHIELD went nuts in Prague, aren’t you?”

Clint felt his mouth curve into the traces of a smirk.  “I might have been there,” he replied.

“And you found proof that Coulson is still alive,” Stark added, his eyes going sharp again.

“Yeah,” Clint nodded, before he turned his eyes to Natasha.  “There’s some video footage you should see.  It’s Phil when he… I mean…” he trailed off in frustration and closed his eyes; he knew what he had seen, but there was still a large part of Clint that didn’t trust his own judgement.  The memory of what Loki had done to him and then that drug the HYDRA goons had fed to him was still too fresh in his mind.  “I sent it to one of my dummy accounts,” he said, looking back up at Natasha.  “I need another pair of eyes to look over it, you know, just in case.”

Nat nodded, knowing exactly what Clint was asking, but it was Stark that surprised Clint the most.  He looked up when Stark offered him a StarkPad.  “You can find it on there,” Stark said.  “Or you can tell me and I’ll have JARVIS find it.”

“I… thanks,” Clint said, taking the tablet.

“If it’s even a tiny chance that Coulson is still alive, there is no way in hell you’re doing this without me,” Stark said firmly.

Clint looked up at Stark and nodded once, before offering the tablet back.  “That’s the dummy account.  The file in the drafts folder is the report I found on the HYDRA computer.”

Closing his eyes, Clint leant back against the wall and waited as Nat and Stark watched the footage.  There was no sound with the video, so he couldn’t hear anything but their reactions, but he could tell when they first spotted Phil’s appearance, before Nat sucked in a sharp breath and Stark cursed loudly.  At least from their reactions, Clint could tell he hadn’t imagined any of it, even if Clint couldn’t completely trust his own mind yet.

“Right,” Stark said, sounding a little shaky when Clint guessed he’d finished watching the video footage.  “I’m going to send this to Bruce and JARVIS, so they can start searching for any other sign of these goons or Coulson.  What about the woman?  Did you find any files on her?”

Clint blinked his eyes open and stared as Stark with not a small sense of awe.  Even after he’d seen Stark’s actions with the nuke, he hadn’t quite believed Stark would offer his help so generously, because when it came down to it, Stark didn’t know Clint.  But apparently, to Stark, that didn’t matter so much and Clint would forever be grateful for that.

Mutely, he shook his head, before clearing his throat.  “No, I didn’t stick around long enough,” he answered.

Stark frowned as he tapped away at the tablet.  “I’ll have JARVIS try and get a good shot of her face then and we can run it by Thor, just in case she’s from Asgard or something.  She uses magic, so you never now.  Does SHIELD know any wizards or anything?”

“Wizards?” Clint echoed, amused despite himself.

“No, but I can ask around and see what I find,” Nat interrupted before anyone could make a bad Harry Potter joke.

“What about the guys in the black cars?” Stark asked instead.  “Do you think it was SHIELD?”

“No way,” Clint replied.  “Fury wouldn’t keep something like this from me.”

Stark looked sceptical, but Nat broke in before he could question it.  “Fury may lie, but he wouldn’t lie about this.  Not to us,” she said.

“Okay,” Stark nodded.  “So we’re off to Norway then.”

“Norway?” Clint said.  “Why the hell would we want to go to Norway?”

Stark smirked.  “Because that’s where Thor and his girlfriend are,” he said.  “And I could just be guessing, but I don’t think SHIELD is going to be much help right now.  Fury’s running scared from the World Security Council because they’ve got something on him, which is why he wanted us all to disappear even after we saved Manhattan from being blown up.  However, I’m _not_ hiding and I’ll use every resource Stark Industries has if it means finding Coulson and bringing him home.”

Clint felt his jaw almost drop in surprise.  Mentally, he took back any bad thing he’d ever thought about Tony Stark.  Stark grinned at his obvious surprise.  “Pack it up, Barton,” he said.  “If you hurry, we can get to Tromso in four hours.  JARVIS should have something by then.”

“Stark, I… Thank you,” Clint said, uncharacteristically serious.

Stark shrugged and sent him a somewhat manic grin.  “Don’t thank me yet,” he replied.  “Thank me when we find Coulson.”


	3. Chapter 3

Clint quickly learnt that travelling with Tony Stark had its perks.

Apparently having lots of money and your own plane made pesky things like passports and travel plans irrelevant.  There was an ease to it that Clint had never experienced before, even with SHIELD’s efficient and clandestine methods of smuggling trained agents across geopolitical borders.  Less than an hour after Stark had arrived at his Parisian safehouse, Clint found himself strapped into a plush leather chair as Tony Stark’s private jet readied for take-off.

“Okay,” Tony said as he sank down into the seat opposite Clint; Nat was already curled protectively against Clint’s side.  “What do you know about the guys that grabbed Coulson?”

Clint glared in reply.  “You’ve seen everything I have on them, Stark.”

Stark waved his hand dismissively, even as he tapped away at his ever-present tablet.  “I thought SHIELD trained you super-spies better than that?” he said.

“They don’t train us to be psychic,” Clint shot back, ignoring the urge to tell Stark he was sniper not a spy.

Nat put a gentle hand on Clint’s forearm, stalling further argument.  “They were organised,” she said.  “They had resources and were well-trained.”

“Which would tend to rule out most terrorist organisations holding a grudge against SHIELD or Coulson, right?” Stark asked.

“The smaller ones, yes,” Natasha agreed.  “But SHIELD has conducted missions against multiple targets that would have the resources to pull off something like this.”

“Yeah, but how many would have been watching the bunker?” Clint interrupted, his thoughts whirling.  He glanced up to find both Stark and Nat watching him curiously.  “Think about it.  There’s no way they could possibly have known Phil was going to be there.”

The only reason Phil had been transported to that bunker was because of some connection between Loki’s spear, the Tesseract and the HYDRA device, probably because the device acted like a key to the Tesseract’s energy in much the same way the spear had.  And that had would have been something completely unpredictable by _anyone_.

“So you’re saying the woman was the target instead?” Stark said sceptically.  “And that they just grabbed Coulson because of what?  He was there?”

Clint shook his head.  “No, I’m saying they were _already_ watching and when they saw an opportunity, they took it.”

“We need to find out why that bunker was so important and who knew about it,” Nat said.

“The device,” Stark said after a moment of silence.  “On the surveillance footage, the cell was being protected by a device that pulsed blue right before Coulson appeared.  It _has_ to be connected to the Tesseract and Loki’s spear – I mean, it’s the only way Coulson would have ended up there.”

He paused, looking at both Clint and Natasha.  “So who the hell would even know it existed?” he asked.  “Because someone did.  Why else would people be watching an almost abandoned and forgotten HYDRA bunker in Prague two weeks after the Tesseract is known to have opened a giant portal above New York?”

Clint let out a deep breath as the implications of that hit him.  “They started watching the bunker as soon as the Tesseract was stolen,” he said, leaning his head back against the seat and closing his eyes.

“Exactly,” Stark said.  “We know it wasn’t HYDRA, because they wouldn’t need to watch their own bases and unless it really was SHIELD, who else would have that kind of knowledge and resources?”

Silence reigned for a long moment, before Clint huffed out a humourless laugh.  “This is the kind of shit we need Phil for,” he said.  “He’s really good at putting this kind of stuff together.”

Clint felt strange sitting there trying to put the complicated pieces together into some sort of picture without Phil.  He hadn’t really realised how much Phil’s dry and sarcastic comments shaped the endless hours of briefings and mission outlines until they weren’t there anymore.  Not to mention the way Phil had a way of seeing clear to the heart of a problem and break it down into which information Nat needed to find or steal and which target Clint had to shoot.

His thoughts swirled, lulled by the rhythmic tapping of Stark’s fingers on his table and Nat’s warm presence at his side.  Exhausted as he was, Clint could probably have fallen asleep if he could have gotten his mind to quiet a little – but everything was _PhilPhilPhil_.  Clint’s stomach was clenched with doubt and fear, because no matter how capable and badass his lover was, he was still recently injured and currently hidden away at someone else’s mercy.

Clint’s eyes snapped open as another thought struck him.  “Why did they just leave?” he asked.

“Huh?” Stark looked up from his tablet.

Suddenly too restless to stay sitting, Clint jumped to his feet and started absently pacing as he tried to put everything together.  “They were watching the HYDRA bunker until a week ago,” he said.  “But they weren’t two days ago when I was there.  So why did they stop watching?  What was suddenly more important to whoever they are than that device?”

“There’s no evidence to suggest they didn’t steal the device as well,” Natasha pointed out.

Clint tugged a hand through his hair in frustration.  “They were waiting for something, Nat,” he said.  “They could have stolen that device at any point after New York.  But they didn’t.  Not until…”  He trailed off, not wanting to voice what he instinctively knew without a doubt; that Phil was somehow more important to what was going on than anyone had figured out yet.

“There’s something else we haven’t considered, either,” Natasha said after a moment, still curled up in her chair, but her eyes intent on Clint.  “Why hasn’t Coulson escaped yet?”

“Escaped?” Stark scoffed.  “Come on, not even Super Agent could fight off twenty armed and well-trained goons after being stabbed in the chest.  And that doesn’t even take into account that if they knew who he is, they wouldn’t have made it easy for him to get out of wherever they’ve stashed him.”

“You don’t listen to the SHIELD rumour mill, do you Stark?  There’s a reason most junior agents start whispering when he walks into a room and it’s not just because he can take out armed robbers with only a bag of flour,” Clint said, a wry twist of humour in his voice despite the circumstances.

Nat smirked.  “My favourite has always been the one about the pencil, the coffee mug and Sitwell’s packet of jelly beans.”

Clint frowned.  “Morocco?”

“No, Argentina.”

Stark frowned in confusion before he shook his head.  “I’m going to ignore the fact that Coulson apparently repeatedly steals people’s candy to use as deadly weapons, because that’s weird even for a guy who likes Supernanny,” he said.  “So what?  They’ve stashed him in a Coulson-proof fortress somewhere?”

“Maybe,” Natasha said, her eyes grave as they watched Clint.  “Or it could be that Coulson _can’t_ fight back.”

“No!” Clint snapped, suddenly angry that Nat could even think such a thing.  “He’s alive.  And we’re going to find him.”

He turned away from the soft, sympathetic looks both Stark and Natasha sent him.  “He’s alive,” Clint whispered again, rubbing a finger along the chain around his neck.  “He’s alive.”  Ignoring Nat’s quiet plea, Clint curled himself up in a chair alone in the corner of the cabin, his back to the others.  Natasha’s words swirled through his mind, haunting him, as he fell into an uneasy sleep.

 

 

 _Almost immediately after Clint had closed his eyes, he found himself standing in the glass-walled cell; exactly the same that had been in the nightmare that had plagued him in Paris.  Clint could smell the chemical tang of processed air and feel the cold metal floor beneath his bare feet and everything felt so_ real _even though it was a little hazy around the edges.  For a moment, Clint felt a stab of paralysing fear that he was back under Loki’s control again, but he stubbornly fought it back.  The cell was mostly grey and white; there was no blue tint._

_As long as there was no blue, Clint was fine._

_Taking stock of his surroundings, Clint saw the bed that lay in the centre of the cell.  It was barely more than a thin mattress and what looked like Army-issue blankets, but it was rumpled enough to look slept in.  There was also a metal toilet and sink in the corner.  Clearly, the cell belonged to somebody.  A sudden prickling at the back of his next made Clint turn slowly and what Clint saw had his heart stuttering to a halt in his chest._

_Just like the nightmare in Paris, Phil was dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his frame thinner and his skin paler than Clint remembered.  But his shoulders were still broad and strong and in that moment, Clint wanted nothing more than to press his face to the skin where those shoulders met his neck and feel Phil’s strong arms wrap around him.  Phil’s back was to Clint, so Clint couldn’t see his face, but he could see the muted reflection in the glass walls of the cell.  Phil’s eyes were squeezed shut and there was such a lost and pained expression on his face that what was left of Clint’s broken heart shattered a little bit more._

_He must have made some sort of noise, because Phil stiffened and spun sharply.  Hands reached automatically for a gun that wasn’t there.  “Who the hell are you?” Phil demanded, his face angry and confused.  “And how the hell did you get in here?”_

_“Phil?” Clint said, his voice cracking a little as he felt his body freeze as if even a small movement would shatter him into a thousand pieces._

_Phil swallowed, his hands fisting.  “I… how do you know my name?”_

_Squeezing his eyes shut, Clint felt himself stumble backwards a step.  “It’s just a nightmare,” he whispered shakily.  “It’s just a nightmare.”  The backs of Clint’s thighs hit the edge of the bed.  “Come on, Barton, wake yourself up.”_

_“Barton..?” Phil’s voice asked, soft and hesitant.  The underlying confusion was enough to have Clint’s stomach in knots.  If there was one nightmare that was worse than reliving what he’d done to his friends under Loki’s control over and over again, it was this right here.  It was Phil standing right in front of him not knowing who Clint was._

_“I know that name.”_

_Clint blinked open his eyes to find Phil searching his face.  He’d stepped closer and Clint knew if he just stretched out a hand, he could touch; feel the warm chest beneath the white t-shirt and the steady heartbeat that would prove that Phil really was alive and standing right in front of him.  The rational part of Clint’s mind knew this was just a dream, but it would be so easy to pretend it wasn’t.  A very real sense of fear and longing made Clint’s fingers twitch._

_Phil’s eyes sharpened to an expression that was so familiar it was painful.  “You think you’re dreaming,” he said softly._

_“Not much of a dream,” Clint quipped, but even he could hear how flat his voice was.  He struggled to slow his short, shallow breathes and relax his clenched muscles.  “I prefer the ones where we’re naked.”_

_“I_ do _know you,” Phil said with sudden certainty.  “Clint.  Your name is Clint.”_

_Clint’s whole body shuddered in reply.  With wide eyes, he watched Phil take a careful step forward.  “I need… can I ask you something?” Phil said, his eyes fierce and intent on Clint’s face.  “I need you to tell me who I am.”_

_“But this is just a dream,” Clint replied, confused.  It was, wasn’t it?_

_Phil seemed to deflate at his words.  “Yeah, sure.  Of course,” he said, turning away slightly and rubbing a hand over his face.  “It’s just… I don’t remember who I am!”  Frustration made Phil’s words sound loud and harsh.  “I can feel it all there in the back of my mind, but I can’t reach it.  And the only clues I have are the dogtags I woke up wearing and the hallucination of a man I can barely remember the name of but instinctively trust.”_

_He waved a hand in Clint’s vague direction, but Clint’s mind was still stuck on his earlier words._ The dogtags I woke up wearing.  _“Dogtags?” Clint echoed._

_“Yeah,” Phil sighed.  “Phillip Coulson, US Army.  Some thug in a uniform that looked like it came from an 80’s Bond film stole them when they took my suit.  It was a nice suit.”  Those familiar grey eyes that Clint knew better than his own stared at him.  “Do I like suits, Clint?” he asked.  “Because I’m beginning to think I do.”_

_If this was a nightmare, it was the most detailed and creative Clint had ever had.  Hell, he’d had drug-induced paranoid delusions that had felt less real.  Surging forwards, Clint stepped right into Phil’s personal space and his hand closed around the warm skin of his forearm.  At the touch, the world flashed blue for a heartbeat, before everything suddenly slid into sharper focus.  It felt like lightening was crackling under Clint’s skin and Phil gasped as Clint’s other hand moved up to cup his jaw._

_“I know you won’t believe me right now, but you are Agent Phillip James Coulson of SHIELD,” Clint said with the kind of sharp focus and intensity he usually reserved for the targets on the other side of his bow.  “You are the smartest, meanest and sexiest badass I have ever met and I swear to you Phil that I am looking for you.”  Clint paused to suck in a sharp breath as the bewilderment in Phil’s eyes faded to an expression of deep, warm trust.  “I will_ not stop _looking for you, Phil.”_

 _Intuitively, Clint knew that whatever this dream or connection was, it was faded.  “I love you, Phil,” he said desperately, catching Phil’s mouth in a quick, fierce kiss.  “And I_ will _find you.”_

 

 

Clint jerked awake as he felt the jet taxied to a stop.  His heart was pounding and his skin and lips still tingled where they’d touched Phil’s.  Clint’s fingers found the dogtags under his hoodie as the scent of chemically processed air and _Phil_ lingered in his nose.

“Hey, Barton, you coming?” Stark called from the other side of the cabin, breaking Clint out of his daze.  He blinked as he realised the door was already open and Nat had already left.  “You okay?” Stark asked, coming a little closer.

“Yeah,” Clint replied as a sense of renewed determination settled over him.  He grabbed his gear and stood.  “Let’s go find Thor.”


	4. Chapter 4

 

“The Son of Coul _lives_?”

Thor’s voice boomed around the enclosed cabin of Stark’s private jet and Clint saw disbelief and a hint of pain cross the demigod’s face.  Beside him, Dr. Jane Foster was holding his hand tightly in both of hers.  Apparently, showing up at observatories and whisking away eminent scientists and demigods was another thing Tony Stark could do with ease where mere mortals would suffer and fail, because it had taken less than an hour to gather up Thor and his girlfriend and turn Stark’s jet back in the direction of New York.

Admittedly, Clint hadn’t had much to do with Thor when the demigod wasn’t in the middle of a fight and he’d kept his distance after the Battle of New York before Thor had returned to Asgard with Loki, but the depth of emotions on Thor’s face as he discovered the news about Phil surprised Clint.  When Nat had told him that Fury had used Phil’s death to bring the Avengers together, Clint had intellectually understood how having someone to literally avenge could bring the team together.  Now that he’d seen the grief on his team mates’ faces, Clint was beginning to understand that Phil had done a lot more for the team than simply bring them together enough to fight the Chitauri.

“I saw my brother stab him through the heart,” Thor continued, something bleak and bitter flashing in his eyes.  “I thought it was a mortal wound.”

“Actually, it missed his heart,” Natasha said in the heavy and slightly awkward silence that followed Thor’s words.  “The medics called it because they thought he’d bled out.”

Clint flinched at the matter of fact words.  He knew this was just Nat’s way of dealing with it, but the grief was still too fresh in Clint’s mind to hear it stated in such black and white terms.  Until Clint could physically hold Phil in his arms again, he wouldn’t be completely convinced that the man he loved was still alive.  “Fury,” Nat added at Clint’s questioning look at where she’d gotten her details from.

“Actually, that’s kind of what we wanted your help with, Thor, buddy,” Stark said, taking control of the conversation.  “We know that Coulson’s alive, but we don’t actually know where he is right now.  We only really know where he’s been.”

Stark tapped a few things on his tablet, even as Dr. Foster gave him a sharp look.  “If you don’t know where he is, then how do you know he’s alive?”

Before Stark could answer, Thor jumped in, his eyes bright.  “I shall ask Heimdall,” he said.  “The Bifrost is not yet repaired, but with the Cube in Asgard, my father has enough power to enable travel between the realms.  I will call him as soon as we reach our destination.”

“That’s great and everything,” Stark replied, “but not exactly what we wanted your help on.”  Stark spun the tablet so Thor and Dr. Foster could see the screen.  From where he was sitting, arms curled around his knees, Clint caught a glimpse of a large screen capture centred on the face of the blonde woman who had saved Phil’s life.  “Do you know who this woman is?” Stark asked.  “She used some sort of magic to heal Coulson.”

Everyone watched in amazement as Thor’s face went white.  “Where did you obtain this image?” he demanded, his expression hard.  Clint could suddenly see how this man could be worshipped as a god for so long; unexpected and immense power crackled from his skin like invisible lightening and Clint could feel goosebumps rise on his arms.

“Barton found is in the computer files of a HYDRA bunker a couple of days ago,” Stark said.  “Well, Barton found a video of Coulson appearing at the base and then the woman helping him.”

“Perhaps you’d better start from the beginning,” Dr. Foster cut in, looking worriedly at Thor.

Stark immediately looked over at Clint, but Clint couldn’t meet his eyes.  He curled tighter around himself, still haunted by the dream he’d had on the way to Norway and Thor.  His determination had lasted long enough to help Stark talk his way into and then out of the observatory, before his doubts had kicked in again.  After everything Loki had done to him, how could Clint be sure the dream had been real instead of made up by his lonely mind?

When Clint didn’t say anything or even look at Stark, Stark began the explanation of everything that had happened, with Nat chiming in every now and then when Stark faltered.  Clint could tell from Dr. Foster’s gasp when Stark finally showed them the video.  Clint closed his eyes and laid his forehead on his knees, his own version of the video playing silently behind his eyelids.

“And Hawkeye?” Thor said.  “Are you not well?”

“He and Coulson were… close,” Nat answered when Clint remained silent.

“We _are_ close,” Clint snapped, raising his eyes to glare at her.  Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Clint turned to look at Thor.  “I love him,” he said simply.

“Then I will do everything I can to help you find the Son of Coul,” Thor said solemnly.

Clint let out a sigh of relief he didn’t even know he’d been carrying.  “Thank you.”

Thor nodded.  “The woman you seek is known as Eir.  She is a Valkyrie,” he said.

“A Valkyrie?” Stark interrupted in surprise.

“Yes,” Thor nodded again.  “She also has the gift of healing and was worshipped as a goddess by your ancestors much as I was.  Your legends tell of her as one of the Valkyries that resurrected the dead for their journey to Valhalla.”

Clint felt his heart clench in his chest.  “But she doesn’t just resurrect people, does she?” Dr. Foster said before Clint could say anything.

“A closer description would be to call her ones of those who healed the warriors of Asgard when they were wounded in battle,” Thor said.

“You mean like the Valkyrie version of a military trained medic?” Stark asked.  “So she would have had the ability to heal Coulson, right?”

“That is where things get complicated, my friend,” Thor replied sadly.

“ _How_ complicated?” Clint demanded, his voice hoarse.

Thor looked directly at him as he answered, the expression in his eyes both solemn and sad.  “Eir travelled to Earth many decades ago, during one of your wars.  She had a great love and compassion for your people and wanted to help.  It took great argument before my father would let her and I think he has regretted the decision ever since.”  Thor paused to take a deep breath.  “During her time on Earth, Eir vanished.  She did not appear in any realm of the dead, nor return to Asgard.  Even Heimdall has been blind to her presence in all the years since and Heimdall’s gaze sees _everything_ in the nine realms.”

“So HYDRA’s had her for decades,” Clint said.  “And they’ve done something to keep you from finding her.”

Thor nodded.  “She appears to have healed the Son of Coul at least partially, but I cannot say how much.  He may still be very weak.”

“That could explain why Coulson hasn’t escaped,” Natasha pointed out; Clint gave her a small smile in reply.

“When _exactly_ did Eir go missing?” Stark asked sharply in the following silence.

“I believe it was during what you refer to as the Second World War,” Thor replied after a small pause.

Stark swore loudly.  “The Tesseract,” he said.  “HYDRA got hold of the Tesseract during World War Two, right?  So what if that device they built was some way of hiding Eir from Asgard?”

“But how?” Dr. Foster demanded immediately.  “I mean, I know it’s an unlimited source of energy…”

Clint tuned out as the discussion sank into a large series of scientific babble between Stark and Dr. Foster.  Clint didn’t care exactly how HYDRA’s device worked.  He cared more about the implications – because if whoever had kidnapped Phil and Eir had also stolen the device, the not even _Asgard_ would be able to find Phil.  _Shit_.  Part of Clint wanted to rage and scream at the universe and demand they bring his lover back to him, but the rest of Clint was just exhausted.  “We’ll find him,” Nat said softly as she curled up beside him.

Blinking, Clint came out of his dark thoughts to find Nat and Thor both watching him with concern.  On the other side of the cabin, Stark and Dr. Foster were still debating the science of the HYDRA device, which now included both JARVIS and Dr. Banner on conference call.  “Will we?” Clint asked, turning his attention back to Natasha.

“Yes,” Thor said firmly.  “After all the Son of Coul has done for us and Earth, I do not think any of the Avengers will merely sit by while we know he has been taken against his will.”

“And even if they didn’t,” Nat added softly.  “You and I would be enough to tear the world apart until we find him.”

 

 

“So what do we do now?” Jane Foster asked as Stark’s jet landed on a private airstrip just outside of New York.

The science discussion had ground to a halt after Bruce had reasonably pointed out that even if they were to figure out how the Tesseract was stopping Heimdall and the rest of Asgard from finding their Valkyrie – and therefore Phil – wouldn’t actually _help_ them.  Clint hadn’t really paid that much attention to them, except when Dr. Foster had told him to call her Jane or she’d have her assistant taze him as soon as Darcy got back from her exams.  Considering Darcy Lewis had reportedly tazed the God of Thunder himself, Clint had made a note to follow her advice.

For the rest of the flight, Clint had been going over a list of all the contacts and assets he had, both through SHIELD and his own, that could possibly help him figure out who the hell had kidnapped Phil.  However, now that they were landing, it seemed that everyone’s thoughts had turned in the same direction.  “As long as it doesn’t involve flying in this jet anywhere else, I don’t think I really care,” he grumbled.

“Are you dissing the jet, Barton?” Stark said, sounding affronted, but there was a spark of humour in his dark eyes.

“Not in so many words,” Clint smirked back, beginning to feel more like his normal self.  “But I’ve been sitting on it for over eight hours.  I want to _do_ something.”

“Well, I know what I’ll be doing as soon as I get back to Stark Tower,” Stark said.

“It better not involve alcohol,” Natasha warned darkly.

Stark rolled his eyes.  “I’m going to call Cap,” he said.  When everyone stared at him, he smirked.  “Who else do we know that’s an expert on what HYDRA got up to during World War Two, huh?”

“Good idea, my friend,” Thor said, clapping Stark forcefully on the back.  “Even if the Captain has no news to help us, it is only right that we gather the team together for a task such as this.”

The ride back to Stark Tower was rather subdued.  Clint spent most of the trip trying to come up with some sort of plan on what to do next.  No doubt Stark and Jane would disappear into the lab with Bruce as soon as they could and Clint had no idea how long it would take for Steve to get back to New York; after the battle, he’d packed up his bike and decided to rediscover America and who knew where he’d ended up.

“Hey, Nat?” Clint said quietly.  Natasha turned from where she’d been silently contemplating the world outside the car window and arched an eyebrow at him.  “How easy do you think it would be to sneak back onto the Helicarrier?”

Natasha just gave him a look that said he was clearly suicidal.  Clint scowled back at her.  The plan wasn’t so crazy.  “If you want access to the SHIELD database, just as Stark,” Nat told him.  “He’s already got a backdoor into the network.”

“There’s no need,” Stark called out from the front seat, casually interrupting the conversation he’d been having with Jane.  “I’ve already got JARVIS searching SHIELD and about a million other national and international databases for anything linked to Coulson, the Valkyrie or HYDRA.”

Nat arched her eyebrow again, as if saying, _See?_   But Clint couldn’t stop the restless feeling that was gripping him.  He might have been a trained sniper and therefore used to waiting patiently for the perfect shot, but he also preferred action to sitting around and talking about things.  He wanted to be out there _doing something_ to find Phil, not just waiting for Phil or Steve or even Odin himself to call back.

Frustrated and annoyed, Clint heaved a sigh and leant his head back against the seat.  From his other side, Thor reached over and put a hand on Clint’s shoulder.  “We will have a plan to find your beloved soon,” he said, his voice remarkably quiet for the demigod.  “And then we will both be able to act instead of talk.”

“Yeah,” Clint agreed.  “I hope so too.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for more violence in this chapter in the later scenes. And honestly, I didn't mean to beat Clint up again, it just fit with the plot.

 

Clint jerked awake from an uneasy sleep, his hand automatically reaching for the knife he kept under his pillows.  The blankets were a twisted mass beneath him and Clint felt his heart pounding in his chest.  Sweat prickled on his skin and his eyes felt gritty from yet another night of disturbed sleep.  Scrubbing a hand over his face, Clint reached for his ringing cell phone, the shrill sound drilling into his already aching head.

“Yeah?” he greeted.

“Barton, I need you to listen closely because I don’t have a lot of time.”

Clint blinked in complete surprise at the terse sound of Maria Hill’s voice on the other end of the phone.  “I’m listening,” he said.

“The coffee shop on West 29th, do you remember it?” Hill said.

“Yeah,” Clint replied, but Hill’s clipped words cut him off before he could say anything else.

“Meet me out front in twenty minutes.”

Clint blinked again when Hill abruptly hung up and tried to wrap his exhausted mind around what had just happened.  A glance at the clock on his bedside table told Clint he’d barely been asleep for an hour.  After arriving back at the Tower, Stark had immediately demanded to see any information JARVIS had found – which wasn’t much – and had started searching through it for any clue to who had kidnapped Phil or where they’d taken him.

Bruce, Jane and Thor had joined him, but when Pepper Potts had arrived, demanding explanations and evidence, Clint and Natasha had retreated from the chaos.  Clint wasn’t sure he could have sat through the explanation of what had happened to Phil one more time.  Instead, Nat had dragged Clint down to the gym since Stark Tower didn’t have a range for Clint to use, but Clint’s heart hadn’t been in it.  After a couple of rounds of sparring where Natasha had found it increasingly easy to knock him off his feet, she’d finally let him be.  Alone, Clint’s doubts had swallowed him again, until he’d been pacing up and down with the urge to _do_ something and Nat had forced him into bed at four in the morning.

Dragging himself from the tangle of blankets, Clint pulled on a pair of jeans and shoved his feet into socks and boots.  His black t-shirt was covered by a hoodie and his battered leather jacket.  Clint’s eyes strayed to his bow and quiver, but he couldn’t risk taking suck an obvious weapon, so he shoved a gun in the waistband of his jeans and a knife into his boot.

The streets were still dark and cold when Clint exited Stark Tower, so he pulled up the collar of his jacket and dug his hands into his pockets.  Hunching his shoulders, he started heading towards the coffee shop where he was meeting Agent Hill.  About a block away, he sank into the shadows and scanned the streets for anyone or anything that seemed out of place.  He let out a slow, deep breath, but his eyes never stopping moving as he scanned the street again.  He waited in sight of the coffee shop until he saw the familiar figure of Maria Hill walking down the street and Clint felt his eyebrows rise when he saw Sitwell was with her.

Carefully crossing the street, Clint fixed a smirk on his face that he didn’t quite feel and waited until Sitwell and Hill noticed him.  He arched an eyebrow when Sitwell spun with a curse and Hill sighed.  “So what is so important that you had to drag me out of bed?” Clint asked, his sharp eyes taking in the dark shadows under Hill’s eyes and the jumpy way Sitwell was scanning the streets around them.

“It’s about Coulson,” Hill said.

Immediately, Clint tensed.  “What about Coulson?” he demanded, his jaw clenching in sudden anger.

“I overheard Fury talking to one of the members of the World Security Council,” Hill said.  “They’re using Coulson to blackmail SHIELD.  They said they’ll kill him if Fury doesn’t do what they want.”

For a moment, Clint felt like he couldn’t breathe.  Suddenly everything started to make sense; the way Fury had warned the Avengers to disappear after the Battle of New York, how SHIELD hadn’t obviously searched for Phil after he’d disappeared and how not even Stark and JARVIS had been able to find the identity of the highly organised group of goons that had kidnapped Phil in Prague.  “You need to find him.  _Fast_ ,” Sitwell added.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, his mind still spinning.

Reaching into her pocket, Hill handed Clint a small memory drive.  “This has everything I could pull of the SHIELD database about Phil and the World Security Council’s resources and known contacts.  There isn’t much on the members themselves, because their identities are supposed to be secret, but…”

Clint flashed her a wry smirk.  “I’ll tell Stark to look into it.”

She nodded.  “The other thing you should know is that whoever is behind this might have agents within SHIELD.  It’s best if you don’t contact us until after you find Coulson.”

Sitwell tapped Hill’s sleeve.  “We need to go,” he said.

Hill nodded again.  Pausing, she shot Clint a look that on anyone else would have been pleading.  “Just… _find him_ , Barton.”  She paused, her expression warming with concern.  “And be careful,” she added.

 

 

Clint realised Hill’s warning was more apt than he’d expected about two blocks later when he heard the scuff of leather against the pavement and realised he was being followed.  Clint wasn’t sure what they hoped to gain by following him, but he doubted it was a simple mugger behind him.  He kept walking, feigning ignorance, while he curled his hands into fists in his pockets.  Waiting for his opportunity, Clint eyed the shadows ahead and saw the entrance to a small alley a few metres in front of him.  With a sudden burst of speed, Clint sprinted around the corner into the alley, before pivoting sharply and putting his back to the wall, keeping as much to the shadows as he could.  A second later, his pursuers followed him.  Both men were dressed in black and carried guns; Clint figured they belonged to the same group that had kidnapped Phil and Eir.

As soon as one of the goons moved within range of where he was standing, Clint reached out and grabbed the wrist holding the gun and snapped out a sharp elbow to the man’s face.  Using his momentum, Clint spun the man around and slammed him head first into the alley wall, knocking him unconscious.

“Alright, stay where you are.”

Clint raised his arms out to the side and turned slowly to find the second goon standing well out of arms reach and a gun levelled at his chest.  Clint watched the second goon for a moment, but the man was cautious and well trained; there was no way Clint could get to the gun in the waistband of his jeans before the goon got off a shot.  Clint would have preferred not to shoot anyone on a New York street anyway.

“The gun,” the second goon said.  “Take it out slowly with two fingers and toss it away.”

Inwardly, Clint sighed.  So much for hoping the goon hadn’t spotted it.  Slowly and telegraphing his movements, Clint did as the goon asked.  “Now what?” he asked with a mocking smirk.  “You going to frisk me?”

The goon frowned, his eyes flicking towards his still unconscious companion.  “Turn around and face the wall,” he ordered.  “Keep your hands out to the side and spread your legs.”

Eyeing the gun, Clint debated making a grab for it, but the goon was still too far away.  Since he had no other option, Clint did as he was told and waited for the goon to move closer, but before he could react, something hard smashed down on his temple.  Pain spiked sharply and everything faded to black.

 

 

_When Clint opened his eyes again, he found himself back in the glass-walled cell, lying on the floor.  Phil’s concerned face hovered in front of him.  “What…?” Clint groaned, struggling to sit up._

_Phil gently reached down a hand to stop him.  Clint jerked in surprise at the warm, solid touch and stared up at Phil with wide eyes.  “I was hoping you’d show up again,” Phil said with the ghost of a smile.  “We don’t have a lot of time.”_

_Clint frowned in an attempt to figure out what was going on, but all he succeeded in doing was make his head hurt worse.  “What’s going on?” he asked.  “Am I dreaming again?”_

_He was pretty sure the last thing he remembered was some goon smashing him in the temple with the butt of a gun.  Phil sighed.  “Sort of,” he replied.  “You need to talk to Thor and Dr. Foster about it.  Have you contacted them yet?  Dr. Foster at the observatory in Tromso, Norway…”_

_“Shouldn’t you already know that?” Clint said, stretching his hand up to feel at his temple.  His fingertips touched nothing but smooth skin; there was no lump or blood.  “If I’m dreaming, you know everything I do.  So you know Stark already flew them back to New York.”_

_“Clint, listen to me,” Phil said.  Clint knew that tone.  It was the same tone of voice Phil used when things were about to go to shit in the field.  “Get Stark to run any surveillance or security footage he can find for Zurich.  When they were moving me, I caught a glimpse of the city.”_

_“_ Fuck _,” Clint swore.  “This really isn’t a dream, is it?”_

_“No,” Phil said grimly.  “I’m not sure who’s pulling the strings, but this whole has something to do with the World Security Council, so you have to be careful.  There’s a man who comes to see me.  He calls himself Anderson and he’s trying to convince me that I was a double agent in SHIELD and I’ve been working for him the whole time.”  Phil paused long enough to smirk a little.  “That might also be because he’s under the impression I still don’t remember who I am.”_

_“But you_ do _remember, right?” Clint asked._

_Phil smiled, his hand moving gently from where it had been resting on his chest to cup the side of his jaw.  “Yeah, Clint, I do,” he said.  Then Phil’s smile faded.  “You have to wake up now.”_

 

 

When Clint opened his eyes again, he was back in the alley.  His vision was blurry and this time when he raised a hand to his temple, he felt the blood trickling from his temple.  Biting back a groan, Clint tried to work out where the goons were.  He needed to get out of there and back to Stark Tower, because if his dreams of Phil weren’t actually dreams, then he had a rescue mission to start planning.

The sky had lightened a little while Clint had been unconscious, which made it easier to spot the goon at the entrance to the alley talking quietly on his phone.  His companion still appeared to be unconscious where Clint had left him and for a brief moment, Clint wondered exactly how long he’d been out.  It couldn’t have been very long.  His throbbing head was making it hard to focus, but he managed to stagger to his feet before the goon at the entrance to the alley realised he was awake.

Ignoring his slight wooziness, Clint kept his attention on the goon.  He lashed out with brutal force, knowing he only had a split second to act before the goon drew his gun again.  Covering the distance to the alley entrance with sudden speed, Clint caught the goon with a kick to the stomach that made him drop his phone and double over with a grunt.  From there, it wasn’t hard to catch the goon by the shoulders and sweep his feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the cracked pavement of the alley.  A hard punch to the jaw kept him from getting up again for a while.

Stepping forward to leave the alley, Clint drew up the hood of his hoodie to cover his still bruised face and the blood at his temple.  The less attention he drew until he reached the safety of Stark Tower and whatever medical supplies Stark had, the better.  Then he stopped and glanced back as an idea hit him.  Drawing out his phone, which was still thankfully undamaged despite the fight, he snapped quick photos of both the goons.  If he was lucky, Stark and JARVIS would be able to trace them back to whoever had employed them.

And then they’d learn why it was a bad idea to mess with SHIELD and the Avengers.


	6. Chapter 6

The adrenaline had worn off by the time Clint got back to the Tower and he was feeling every bruise.  His head was throbbing painfully with each breath and all Clint wanted to do was collapse on something soft and sleep for a few hours.  Sagging against the wall of the elevator as he rode up to the penthouse, Clint tried to push the pain and exhaustion to the back of his mind.  He didn’t have time to indulge in either right now.

Clint expected the penthouse to be quiet when he arrived and was surprised to find an anxious-looking Pepper Potts in the remodelled kitchen, sipping a cup of coffee.  Pepper looked as impeccably put-together as she always seemed, but the slight pallor of her skin and the hint of shadows under her eyes beneath the make-up told Clint she’d barely slept.  He pushed back his hood as he stepped into the kitchen so she’d know who he was and saw Pepper wince as she caught sight of the dried blood at his temple.

“Agent Barton, are you alright?” she asked softly.

Clint gave a small smile at her genuine concern.  “Nothing a shower and coffee won’t fix,” he replied, heading straight for the coffee pot.  Out of the corner of his eye, Clint saw her watching him with an expression of deepening worry.  “I got jumped by a couple of guys in black,” he found himself explaining.  “It looks worse than it is.”

Pepper shot him a look that said she didn’t believe him.  Considering how long she’d worked for Stark and ran his company, Clint figured she probably didn’t.  “Does this have something to do with Phil’s… kidnapping?” she asked.

Nodding, Clint took a sip of his coffee.  “Yeah,” he said.  “I think someone’s noticed we’re looking for him.”

“Can we call SHIELD for help on this?” Pepper asked.

Clint winced, his mind flashing to what Maria Hill had said.  He shook his head in reply and instantly regretted it.  “Fury can’t help,” he said.

“Look, I don’t know what Tony has told you, but there’s no reason you have to do this on your own,” Pepper started, but Clint cut her off.

“No, I mean Fury _can’t_ help,” he said.  “His hands are tied.”  There was no doubt in Clint’s mind that Fury would do anything he could to help, even if Hill was right and he was being blackmailed.  Fury might lie and keep secrets, but he’d been just as devastated by Phil’s apparent death and his disappearance as the rest of them, if not even more so.  Fury had known Phil a long time.

Pepper gave him a look that said she knew there was more to the story than that, but she thankfully didn’t ask for an explanation.  Clint didn’t really want to have to say it more than once.  “So, do you know anything about Phil’s cellist?” Pepper asked in a clear attempt to change the subject.

Clint closed his eyes for a moment and smiled wryly.  “Phil’s cellist.  He’s still telling that one,” he muttered.

After everything he’d been thought recently – Loki, Phil’s disappearance and trying to find him again – it shouldn’t have been so hard to explain the truth.  It might have been more or less a secret, but Clint wasn’t ashamed of it.  He could _never_ be ashamed of Phil, even if he did sometimes wonder what a man like Phil Coulson was doing with someone like Clint.  Clint had the vague thought that Phil might be a little annoyed at him for telling everyone about their relationship because Phil was a man who preferred to keep his emotions private, but Phil also considered Pepper Potts to be a genuine friend and Clint didn’t want to keep the truth from her anyway.

Opening his eyes again, Clint attempted to smile at Pepper.  “ _I’m_ Phil’s cellist,” he confessed.  “It’s the bow thing.  Phil didn’t want to wrong people to find out about us.”

Pepper stared at him for a long moment, confusion and surprise and a hint of hurt warring on her features.  “He said you moved back to Portland,” she said.  “I mean, the cellist.”

“He did?” Clint blinked.

“Yes, when he came to talk to Tony, just after that artefact had been stolen from SHEILD.”

Clint felt a stab of guilt.  That would have been after Loki had touched him with the spear and made his head all screwed and turned Clint into a ghost in his own body.  _You have heart_.  Clint pushed away the echoing words and the flickers of blue that edged his vision.  “I was compromised,” he said hoarsely.  “By Loki.  I…”

He felt a touch on his arm and looking up into Pepper’s sympathetic face.  It gave Clint the strength to push away the memory of the last time he’d seen Phil in the flesh that was haunting him.  Even heading up SHIELD’s presence at the research base, Phil had still managed to grab a little time that morning to spend with Clint, even if they’d missed breakfast afterwards.  Senior agents like Phil rarely had much to do with assets unless they were assigned as handlers and Phil hadn’t been Clint’s handler since they got together.  Clint missed Phil’s voice in his ear on missions sometimes, but Phil had refused to be in a relationship where they were anything but partners.  It made things awkward sometimes, but they made it work, mainly because Clint now got his orders directly from Fury and Phil trusted his judgement in the field.  No one had ever trusted Clint’s judgement as much as Phil did.

The moment was interrupted by Natasha’s silent entrance.  She arched an eyebrow in Clint’s direction as Pepper stepped back.  “I went to meet Hill,” he said in answer to Nat’s silent question.  “I got jumped by two guys on the way back.”

Nat paused in where she was making a cup of tea and turned to face him, her eyes narrowed as if to say, _You went_ alone _?_   “I didn’t have time to wake anyone up,” Clint said defensively.  “She only gave me twenty minutes.”

“What did she want?” Natasha asked.

“Can we just…  I’d rather only tell this once,” he said, closing his eyes as another wave of fatigue washed over him.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder briefly and Clint caught the soft, floral scent of Pepper’s perfume.  “I’ll go and wake Tony,” she said.  “JARVIS, can you wake the others and request their presence in Tony’s lab?”

“Of course, Miss Potts,” the cool voice of Stark’s AI replied.

Clint blinked open, forgetting that JARVIS heard everything that happened in Stark Tower.  “Stark’s not going to like everyone messing with things in his lab,” he told Pepper with a smirk.

Pepper gave an elegant shrug and flashed him a conspiratorial smile.  “You’re going to need the computers, so I guess he’s just going to have to deal with it,” she replied.

As she left with a second cup of coffee for Stark, Clint was reminded of the reasons why he was never ever going to cross Pepper Potts if he could help it.  They were the same reasons that made her one of Phil’s closest friends, even if Phil denied what they did most of the time was gossip.  Wrapping his hands around his mug, Clint poured himself some more coffee and refused to listen to the doubts that said Phil wasn’t coming back.

“What about the Captain?” Nat asked in the following silence.

“Captain Rogers is due back at Stark Tower within the hour, Agent Romanov,” JARVIS’ disembodied voice announced.  “He should arrive before everyone else is awake and sufficiently caffeinated.”

“Well, that’s handy,” Clint said sardonically.

Natasha bumped his shoulder with hers as she sipped her tea.  “Maybe he’ll stop Stark from saying something stupid.”

Clint smirked.  “I’m not sure that’s possible.”

 

 

True to JARVIS’ prediction, Steve Rogers arrived just as Stark had made it to the coffee pot in the kitchen.  Amusingly, Stark cut off mid-rant at his appearance and Clint had to hide a smirk.  A glance at Pepper showed that she was going the same.  Even Natasha and Bruce looked amused.  “Captain,” Stark said somewhat awkwardly.  “You want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Steve said politely.  His eyes took in everyone that had gathered in the kitchen and Clint could virtually see Steve tensing and turning into Captain America.  “Has there been a threat?  Do we need to assemble?”

Pepper turned an unimpressed glare on Stark.  “Tony, you didn’t tell him?”

“It didn’t seem like something I should just announce over the phone!” Stark defended.

“Tell me what?” Steve asked in the following silence.

Pepper gave Stark a significant look, Bruce just looked awkward and Nat stayed silent.  Clint was kind of glad Thor and Jane had yet to join them, because that would have just led to even more awkward and perhaps Thor giving some weird piece of Asgardian wisdom.  With a sigh, Clint looked directly at Steve.  “Agent Coulson is alive,” he said bluntly.  He held up a hand to forestall all of Steve’s questions.  “I’ll tell you everything, Cap, but I only want to do it once.”  He paused, looking at Stark and Pepper.  “And I’ll need that computer,” he added.

Nodding once and with another glare at Stark, Pepper led the way and about ten minutes later, the Avengers plus Jane and Pepper were sprawled out over the various flat surfaces of Stark’s personal lab.  Clint took in the clutter of technology and tools with a careless eye, before bracing himself for the coming conversation.  Starting with the basics, Clint explained to everyone how he’d come to find out that Phil wasn’t actually dead.  Stark had offered to play the video footage again and Clint stood silently as those who hadn’t seen it yet watched.

“So what do we know?” Bruce asked quietly when it was finished.

“Aside from the fact that whoever’s behind this is highly organised, well-funded and secret enough that even SHIELD doesn’t know who it is?” Stark asked sardonically.  “Not much.”

He turned his sharp and probing gaze on Clint.  “Unless of course that was what your super-secret meeting with Agent Hill was about.”

“What meeting?” Steve asked.

Clint shot an annoyed look at Stark before answering.  “Hill called me up at about five this morning,” he said.  “She wanted to meet me, so I went, and when I met them, both she and Sitwell were as jumpy as hell.”  Clint paused to look straight at Nat.  “Hill says one of the members of the World Security Council has Phil and is using him to blackmail Fury and SHIELD.  They said they’d kill Phil if Fury doesn’t cooperate.”

The lab erupted into curses in at least four different languages and both Pepper and Jane went pale.  Nat drew a knife and threw it at wall, still cursing loudly in Russian, before she speared Clint with an icy look.  “ _We will find these bastards and we will drown them in their own blood_ ,” she snarled in Russian.

Clint tossed the flash drive Maria Hill had given him to Stark.  “Hill didn’t know which member of the Council it was, but that’s everything she and SHIELD has on them.”

“Did Agent Hill have any idea where Phil actually is?” Pepper asked softly, her face still worryingly pale.

“No,” Clint answered, leaving out his dream or vision of Phil for now.  “But I was jumped by two guys in black on the way back to the Tower, so I’m guessing they’re worried we’re getting close.”

“You’re sure they were the same people who kidnapped Coulson?” Bruce asked.

“They were too well-trained not to be,” Clint replied.

“Right,” Stark said, having loaded up whatever data had been on the flash drive.  Immediately, several holographic screens sprung up around him.  “JARVIS, start cross-referencing the new data with everything we’ve found so far,” he said, before turning his attention back to Clint.  “I don’t suppose you could give me a place to start?”

Clint sucked in a deep breath.  “Zurich,” he said.  “Try Zurich.”

He felt Stark’s piercing gaze on him.  “Any particular reason why I should be starting in Zurich, Barton?”

With a wince, Clint opened his eyes again.  “It’s kind of a long story, but the short version is: because Phil told me.”

The silence that followed was so intense Clint couldn’t even hear people breathing.  “Coulson _told you_?” Stark yelled, incredulous.

Carefully not looking at anyone, Clint explained his dreams as succinctly as he could.  He described the glass-walled cell and everything Phil had told him so far and how the edges of his vision would turn blue when he wasn’t looking at Phil.  It was harder than Clint thought it would be and he found himself struggling for words, because even though he’d _been there_ , it still felt nuts.  “And before you say it, Stark,” he added when he’d finished explaining.  “The reason I didn’t tell anyone was because I thought I was going crazy.”

Taking a deep breath, Clint turned to where Thor was watching him gravely and pasted a smile on his face that felt false even to him.  “I don’t suppose you’ve heard of this happening before?” he asked hopefully.

“I’m afraid I have not, my friend,” Thor replied, looking like he wished he could give any other answer than the one he had.

“So I am going crazy,” Clint muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Maybe not,” Jane said.  “You were touched by the spear, right?  That’s how Lo… you were controlled.”  Pausing, Jane shot a look at Thor whose expression had turned dark and bitter at the almost-mention of his brother.  “And Agent Coulson was stabbed by the same spear, wasn’t he?” she continued determinedly.  “What if somehow the energy of the spear has connected you two?”

Stark blinked.  “That’s not a bad theory,” he said.  “We’ve been assuming that the only reason Coulson disappeared was because the HYDRA device was somehow responsible because it was linked to the Tesseract, but the HYDRA device isn’t the only thing linked into that energy.  The spear was too.  And while Thor took the Tesseract back to Asgard, the spear and the HYDRA device are still somewhere on Earth.”

“You think that’s enough to maintain a conscious link between Barton and Agent Coulson?” Bruce asked, moving to one of the lab computers.

“I don’t see why there wouldn’t be enough residual energy to do it,” Stark said.  “And that’s assuming that either or both the device and the spear aren’t linked into the same inexhaustible energy the Tesseract was tapping.”

Before the science discussion could get too in depth, Stark spun back to face Clint.  “You said you thought they were dreams,” he said.  “What _exactly_ were you doing when you had them?”

“Sleeping,” Clint said dryly, trying not to think of the implications of what Stark was saying.  “Although the last time, I think I was unconscious.”

“And you don’t have them every time you fall asleep?” Bruce asked, fiddling with his glasses absently.  “You only had these dreams a few times?  And did Agent Coulson think he was dreaming too?”

Wordlessly, Clint nodded.  “That’s it!” Stark said.  “It’s all subconscious.  Whatever energy is linking you two together only had the strength to do it when you’re both asleep or unconscious.”

“But will that be enough to track?” Bruce muttered as Jane started some sort of complicated equation on a piece of paper next to him.

As the discussion descended into science babble, Clint turned his attention to the other people in the room.  Pepper was tapping something into a PDA, a fiercely determined look on her face, and pacing slightly as she did so.  Nat was curled up on the sagging couch, sharpening her knives with a terrifying expression on her face; Clint hadn’t seen that cold, close-off look since the last time Nat had been forced to confront something from her past.  And Thor and Steve were both watching Clint with grave eyes.  They both looked like they wanted to say something to reassure Clint, but they weren’t sure they could find the words.  It would almost have been comical if it was any other situation or both of them hadn’t been so earnest in meaning it.  Clint was ridiculously gratefully when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he could turn away from them.

“Barton.”

Clint knew that dark tone.  There was only one man in the world it could belong to: Nick Fury.  “A little bird tells me you and the other Avengers have been busy,” Fury said.

“Are you going to tell me to stop looking for him?” Clint asked.

“That’s what I’ve been told to do,” Fury said flatly, but even so Clint could hear the hatred and disdain for the command from the unseen blackmailer.  “But I’m not going to.  What I _am_ going to tell you is to hurry the hell up.  You find him, Barton, and you find him fast because when you do, I’m going to take these motherfuckers _apart_.  No one and I mean _no one_ messes with my senior agent.”

Clint felt a smirk curve across his face and he knew the expression wasn’t a nice one.  With both Fury and the Avengers gunning for whoever was behind this, they didn’t stand a chance.  “Just a head’s up, sir,” Clint warned, shooting a look at Natasha.  “You’re going to have to fight Nat for that honour.”

He paused, Phil’s face flashing across his vision.  “And that’s if I don’t get to them first.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for one or two swear words in this.

 

Clint cracked open an eye and found himself staring at familiar glass walls.  It was almost a relief after the last few hours.  With an explanation Clint had only half understood, Stark, Bruce and Jane had hooked him up to several different machines and proceeded to do everything but knock Clint unconscious.  Bruce had tried to teach him meditation.  Thor had attempted to get him to ‘free his mind’.  Jane had suggested simply trying to fall asleep.  Nothing had worked; Clint was already on edge and every strange beep, shuffled footstep or lame joke from Stark had him snapping awake again.

In the end, Clint had simply taken a deep breath, closed his eyes and sunk into the hyperaware state he had when he was using his bow, except instead of having laser-like focus on the target, he’d let his mind drift with vague thoughts of Phil.  Phil’s dry sense of humour on missions before they’d gotten together and the way he hogged the blankets in bed and his nasty temper if you got between him and his first cup of coffee in the mornings.  And what do you know – it had worked.  Clint had closed his eyes to the lab and opened them again to the cell he always saw in those ‘dreams’.

The only problem was the cell was empty.

Climbing to his feet in whatever metaphysical vision world it was (Jane had explained, but Clint hadn’t been listening), Clint took the opportunity to look around the cell.  If Jane was right and the cell was an accurate representation of where Phil was, there might be a clue.  Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything in the cell Clint hadn’t noticed before.

_What do you see, Agent Barton?_

It was weird to still hear and feel Stark’s lab around him, even though he couldn’t see it and in his hyperaware state, Clint knew exactly where everyone around him was and what they were doing.  Bruce’s voice, however, was calm and soothing, probably because of Bruce’s experience with The Other Guy, even if it did sound like Bruce was talking to him from underwater.

“You know, Doc, since you’re messing around with my brain, how about you call me Clint?” he said.

_Okay, now that’s just creepy._

_Tony, don’t disrupt him.  Clint, I want you to tell me where you are, okay?_

Clint smirked at Stark’s inability to stay quiet, before he answered Bruce.  “A cell,” he said, falling back into the familiar pattern of a debriefing.  “The same one as before.  Glass walls and ceiling, metal floor.  Bed in the middle, blanket twisted as if it’s been slept in recently.”

_What about Coulson?  Shouldn’t the Super Agent be in there with you?_

Distantly, Clint heard Bruce’s soft sigh of irritation at Stark’s interruption.  There was a short, muffled conversation Clint couldn’t really hear, before Stark’s footsteps backed off a few paces.  “I’m alone,” he answered anyway, looking around at the cell in case he’d missed anything.

_Interesting.  And that’s never happened before, has it?  You’ve never woken up without Agent Coulson being there?_

“No,” Clint said.  Phil _had_ always been waiting for him when he’d woken up, even if the first time, Phil hadn’t believed Clint was real.

_And the HYDRA device?  Can you see it?_

“Yeah,” Clint answered.  Outside the glass walls of the cell, the insidious blue glow of the HYDRA device pulsed softly, as if it was alive.  Even without the memories of what Loki had to done to him there was something disturbingly creepy about the way the light pulsed almost as if it was breathing.  “It’s outside the walls of the cell.  Glowing.”

_Well, the device is obviously on and Barton’s haunting him like the ghost of Robin Hood, so where’s Super Agent?_

Clint ignored whatever Jane said to Stark and sucking in another deep breath as he let his eyes drift shut.  The constant awareness of things he couldn’t see was jarring and Clint wasn’t sure how long he could keep doing this.  He could already feel a headache pounding at the back of his skull.  “Look, guys, I…” he started.

“Clint?”

“Phil,” Clint let out all of his breath in a rush, his eyes snapping open as his body automatically turned towards the voice behind him.  Phil looked even more stressed and exhausted than last time, lines of tension bracketing his grey-blue eyes.

“You came back,” Phil said.

“Of course I came back,” Clint replied.

Ignoring the comments coming from the not-really-there lab, Clint stepped forward to gather Phil into his arms because Phil really looked like he needed a hug.  Phil melted into the embrace, which told Clint how much he really needed it.  Clint just tucked his face into Phil’s neck and tightened his grip, breathing in the warmth and strength of his lover.  No matter how much fighting and searching had gotten Clint to this point, holding Phil in his arms just reminded him of how much he was missing.

Eventually though, Phil pulled back enough to talk and Clint let him go reluctantly, watching the same emotions run though Phil’s grey-blue eyes that he knew were there to see in his.  Phil’s arms settled around Clint’s waist as if he was reluctant to let him go any further than that.  “Did you talk to Stark about Zurich?” Phil said finally.

Clint nodded.  “Yeah, I told them everything.”

“And did Stark find anything?”

“I’m not sure,” Clint replied, watching the tension grow in Phil’s face.  “Hey, Stark, did you find anything when you searched for Phil in Zurich?”

_Nothing yet, but JARVIS is still running some of the street cameras.  You know, if you could narrow it down to something smaller than a city, I might be able to find out faster._

Phil’s eyes went wide and Clint could the grip on his hips tightening as Phil’s whole body tensed.  “That was Stark’s voice,” he said.

Clint blinked.  “You can _hear_ him?”

 _He can_ hear _me?_

“How are you doing that?” Phil demanded.

As simply as he could, Clint explained.  Stark jumped in every now and then, offering his own answers.  “So whatever this connection is, you can hear and talk to anyone in the lab with you and I can hear Stark because you can,” Phil summarised, frowning.  Clint wasn’t sure how to read Phil’s expression.

“Well, Bruce and Jane are around too, but that’s pretty much how it is, yeah,” Clint replied.  “That a bad thing?”

“No,” Phil said.  “I was just wondering if it could go both ways.”

“You want to try it so I can see and hear the guy who’s got you,” Clint said, following Phil’s idea to its conclusion.

“It was more of a general thought,” Phil said, still frowning.  “Because even if we could do it, you still wouldn’t be able to see him, the same way I can’t see Stark.”

Clint tried really hard to focus on Phil’s words, but in the not-really-there lab, both Bruce and Stark decided to talk to him at once.  Even Phil winced at the jarring sound.  “Ow,” Clint muttered sulkily, pressing his face into Phil’s shoulder.  “How about everyone speaks one at a time so I don’t feel like someone is trying to drill an arrow into my brain?”

 There was a beat of silence.

 _Sorry_.

“Yeah, okay,” Clint said before raising his head again.  Phil was still watching him with frowning concern.  “Stark, you got any questions for Phil?”

_Yeah, uh, how sure if Coulson that he’s in Zurich?_

Phil arched an eyebrow, his expression morphing into one of exacerbated amusement.  “We were travelling in a black, possibly dark blue sedan with tinted windows.  I was blindfolded, but towards the end of the trip I unsettled it enough to catch a glimpse out of the window.  I recognised the Kunsthaus as we past it and about forty minutes later, we got to where they’re holding me.”  Clint smirked, but dutifully relayed the information.

_JARVIS, did you get that?  Start searching all traffic cameras near the museum for black and dark blue sedans with tinted windows._

At Stark’s words, Phil relaxed slightly.  “Tell Stark he might want to cross reference car registrations with variations of the name Anderson.  Also, judging by his faint accent, he has a connection to Georgia,” Phil added.  “It’s a long shot, but you never know.”

“Georgia the country or the state?” Clint asked.

“State,” Phil said and Clint repeated the information to Stark.

_Okay, I was just kidding when I called him Super Agent.  SHIELD really trains you to be ninjas, don’t they?_

“Actually, that’s all Phil,” Clint smirked, watching the faint trace of a blush colour Phil’s cheeks and neck.  He would never not find that endearing.  “You should hear what he can remember about Captain America.”

“Clint…” Phil sighed.

“What?” Clint said with a grin.  “I’m on the same _team_ as your childhood idol and yet you still know more about him that I do.  Face it, Phil, that’s never getting old.”

Phil rolled his eyes, but Clint could tell from the tilt of his lips that he was amused.  “You’re worse than Natasha.”

Clint’s grin widened.  “Liar.”

The amusement on Phil’s face faded.  “I’m not sure how much else I can tell you,” he said.  “I hate being helpless like this.”

“You may be locked up, but you’re never helpless,” Clint told him.

A warm expression flickered through Phil’s eyes.  “That may be true, but I still can’t tell you who’s behind this.”

Clint nodded.  “It’s a pity we can’t use this shared vision thing as the mental version of a homing beacon.”

Phil blinked.  “That… that actually might work.”

“Huh?”

Clint watched as Phil frowned in thought.  “I wasn’t kidnapped alone,” he said.  “There was a woman at the HYDRA base.  Her name is…”

“Eir and she’s a badass Valkyrie who healed you after you teleported.  I’ve seen the movie,” Clint interrupted.  He’d been aiming for flippant, but even his smile felt brittle.  “Thor was pretty freaked when he found out.”

Phil nodded grimly.  “From what I’ve heard about what HYDRA did to her, he should be,” he said.  “The device that transported me to the HYDRA base in the first place – the one connected to the spear and the Tesseract – hides her presence from Heimdall as well as stops her from recovering the bulk of her magic.  She used a lot of it to heal me, but she might have enough strength left to push some energy into the bond between us and make it… traceable.”

“I…” Clint attempted, before he trailed off.  The idea was nuts and relied on _magic_ which was not one of Clint’s favourite things, but if there was one thing Clint had learnt during his time with SHIELD, it was that the crazy shit tended to _work_.  “Phil, have you and the Valkyrie been discussing magical _physics_?”

Phil huffed.  “Well, it’s not exactly like there are a lot of other things to do,” he said.  He paused, his body going tense.  “I have to go.”

“What’s wrong?” Clint asked, even as he scanned the cell around them for a threat he wouldn’t be able to see anyway.

“Someone’s coming,” Phil replied.  “As soon as I get the chance, I’ll talk to Eir about turning the link between us into a beacon.  Can you meet me back here in two hours?”

Clint nodded.  “Just try and stop me,” he said.

Phil smiled gratefully, before he hesitated.  “Just… be careful,” he said.  “I know what you’re like, Clint.”

And then he was gone.

 

 

Blinking, Clint opened his eyes to Stark’s lab and was hit almost immediately by a rush of pain, like he’d been underwater for too long and all the blood was rushing to his head.  The space in front of him was empty and for a moment, he felt sharply bereft.  One moment, the man he loved had been standing safe and reassuringly in his arms, the next he was gone.  It reminded Clint too closely of Phil disappearing after he’d been stabbed, even though he hadn’t personally witnessed it, and for a minute after Phil disappeared, Clint had to breathe deeply and clench and unclench his fists.

“Back with us, Barton?” Stark asked.

Clint glanced up from where he was still sitting cross-legged on the floor to see Stark hovering nearby, surrounded by glowing holographic displays.  “I… uh, yeah,” he replied.

“Good,” Stark nodded, manipulating something hovering in the air in front of him; Clint didn’t recognise what it was.  “Because when you’re under like that, you speak but your face doesn’t move and that, my friend, is way beyond creepy and somewhere around horrifying.”

“Tony,” Bruce said warningly and Clint saw him and Jane look up from where they were staring at several screens worth of data and mathematical equations.  “He can’t help that.  It’s a metaphysical link through…”

Stark rolled his eyes.  “I know,” he said.  “But it’s still creepy.”

Seeing he was awake and alert, Jane walked over to start detaching Clint from all the machines they’d hooked him up to.  Once she was gone, he climbed to his feet and stretched to ease the slight tension in his muscles, careful not to move his head too much.  The pain wasn’t unbearable by any means, but it wasn’t pleasant and Clint hoped the scientists would let him have some painkillers and maybe a cup of coffee before they started hooking him up to things again.

“So, does the Super Agent have a plan?” Stark asked, smirking.

“You’re going to keep calling him that until he tazes you, aren’t you?” Clint said, sliding him a look.

“Well, tazing wouldn’t be my first choice,” Stark shot back.  “Does he actually do that?”

Clint smirked.  “Oh, yeah.  He really does.  Just ask Sitwell.”

“Does Agent Coulson really have a plan?” Jane interrupted, looking between Clint and Stark as if she wasn’t sure whether to separate the two of them or smile.

The smirk fading, Clint ran a hand over his face.  “Yeah, sort of,” he relied.  “He needs to talk to the Valkyrie, but he thinks it could be possible to pump enough magical energy into the link we have to use it like a tracking beacon.”

“He wants to turn the link into magical GPS?” Stark said in the following silence.

“Would that even work?” Bruce asked.

“Theoretically, it’s possible to accomplish,” Jane replied.  “From what I can tell, magic is more like a person’s inherent ability to manipulate energy, like the way the body turns sugars into chemical energy to function, except it seems to incorporate functions on the quantum level and its really, really complicated.  But considering what I’ve read in Eric’s notes, the Tesseract doesn’t operate completely in normal space-time, so if you could power the link that exists _outside_ of the normal world, then you should be able to trace each end back to its physical location.”

Clint blinked.  “I’m guessing that’s a yes?” he muttered.

Stark snorted.  “If we can’t figure this out, I’ll _buy_ Zurich for you and you can just blow it up piece by piece,” he said as Bruce and Jane continued their discussion, now punctuated with diagrams and what looked like extremely complicated maths.  “Did Coulson say when we’d know if the Valkyrie can do it?”

“He said he’d be back in two hours,” Clint replied.  “So I’m going to go and grab a coffee.  Call me if you cure cancer.”

 

 

Two hours later, Clint was back in the lab trying to sink back into his hyperaware space.  Thankfully, this time no one had hooked him up to any machines, so he was at least relatively comfortable.  Also, the painkillers and coffee had taken the edge off his headache.  He took a moment to centre himself and let out a slow breath, before opening his eyes.  Clint resisted the urge to grin when he saw the glass-walled cell around him.

“Phil?” he called out, looking around.

Phil gave a small smile when Clint turned and spotted him on the bed and looked like he wanted to roll his eyes.  “I said I’d be here, didn’t I?” he grumbled.

With a grin, Clint flicked his eyes between Phil and the bed he was sitting on.  “I didn’t think we had time for that, but if you’re trying to get me into bed…”

This time, Phil did roll his eyes.  “Focus, Barton,” he said.  “Business first, sex later when I can actually touch you in person.”

“Aw, come on,” Clint teased because it had been far too long before he’d been able to.  “Just think of this as a really elaborate way of having phone sex.”

_No, Barton, you will not have sex with your boyfriend in my lab!  I don’t care if it’s metaphysical, the only person allowed to have sex in this lab is me!_

Clint grinned at Stark’s outraged voice.  “That’s almost better than tazing him, isn’t it?” he said.

Phil smiled the warm, soft-edged smile that he only ever showed Clint.  “Almost,” he agreed.  Then his expression turned serious.  “I spoke with Eir.  She thinks she should be able to do it.”

“Yeah, Doc Foster tried explaining it to me,” he said.  “She said something about the link-thing being outside normal space-time and relative rates of energy use.  So I say let’s do it so I can swoop down, kick some serious bad guy ass and bust you out of there like a distressed damsel.”

Phil gave him a level look.  “Before we do this, Clint, there’s something you need to know.  Pushing enough magical energy into the link between us to strengthen it enough to trace it is… well, it’s probably going to make the bond permanent.”

A million thoughts raced through Clint’s mind all at once, so tangled he couldn’t even begin to sort them out.  “Hey, Stark, give me a minute would you?” he called out to the not-really-there lab.

Stark and the others might only be able to hear one side of the conversation, but Clint wanted privacy for this.  He waited until he couldn’t hear anyone’s presence around him.  Phil watched him warily the whole time and even though his face was calm, Clint still got the feeling that Phil was waiting for the axe to fall.  “So you’re saying,” Clint said, “that if we do this, I’m _always_ going to be able to tell where you are?”

“Yes,” Phil replied, his expression carefully blank.  “It would be nothing more than a general sense which could possible get stronger in times of high stress or emotion…”

Clint stepped forward to place his hands over Phil’s tense shoulders.  “Phil,” he said seriously, looking the other agent dead in the eye.  “Which part of this is supposed to be something I don’t want?”

“You…” Phil began, some of his emotions bleeding through into his eyes and voice.  Clint was surprised to see how uncertain he was about this.  “I…”

“Do you not want this?” Clint asked.  “Because if it was up to me, the idea of having you in the back of my mind, always knowing that you’re alive, even if you aren’t always safe or with me sounds pretty fucking _good_.”

Something deep in Phil’s eyes softened and warmed.  “Really?”

“Jesus, Phil, this last month has been _hell_ ,” Clint said, all the fear and grief and uncertainty he’d been bottling up pouring out.  “The thought of you being… dead, of not even having a body to bury, I can’t…”

Clint felt Phil stand and pull him into a tight embrace.  He buried his face in Phil’s shoulder, only then realising the tears slipping down his face.  “God, Phil, I miss you so much,” he muttered into the warm cotton on Phil’s shoulder.  “I can’t do this without you.”

“So this being permanent won’t make you feel trapped or stuck with something you don’t want?” Phil asked softly and Clint _knew_ they weren’t just talking about the magical link between them anymore.

“ _Never_ ,” Clint replied, raising his head so Phil could read the truth of it in his face.  For once, Clint let all of his walls drop until he was naked in front of Phil and Phil could see _everything_ ; all the deep, dark places Clint usually kept hidden from the world, the insecurities and the fear that Phil would someday realise just what a messed-up kid Clint was and leave him like everybody else.  “Haven’t you realised by now Phil that I would gladly give you anything you wanted?”

The smile Phil gave him in return was nothing short of blinding.  “Well, in that case, Clint Barton will you consent to sharing a magical, metaphysical bond with me?” he asked.

The wording hit Clint right in his heart and for a moment, he could almost see Phil dropping to one knee.  “Yes,” he replied, covering the stab of disappointment with flippancy, because there was only so much vulnerability Clint could handle at once.  “But just so you know, a less cheap date would have demanded you put a ring on it first.”

Phil arched an eyebrow at him.  “Clint, I’m not proposing in the middle of a cell while in the hands of the enemy,” he said.  “That’s what dinner dates are for.”

“I…” Clint stuttered.

His expression turning soft and strangely nervous, Phil watched him.  “You don’t have to say anything,” he said.  “You at least deserve a hideously expensive dinner first.  It’s just something I’ve been thinking of and as always, you have a habit of sending my careful plans out the window.”

Phil looked like he was going to say something else, possibly something that would make Clint want to strangle him, so he interrupted.  “Yes, Phil.  The answer is yes!” he said.  “I’ll say it in as many languages as it takes!”

The expression on Phil’s face turned almost bashful underneath the relief and pure happiness that shone out of him.  Leaning in, he gave Clint a sweet kiss that was far too short.  “I’ll tell Eir to go ahead as soon as I wake up.  Then you can come and find me and I’ll buy you that dinner I owe you.”

“That sounds like a plan,” Clint grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't actually where I meant for this chapter to go, but the plot bunnies grabbed me and wouldn't let me go :S


	8. Chapter 8

 

With a grunt, Clint opened his eyes to find himself back in the lab.  Just like the last time, his head was pounding and Clint had to suck in a few deep breathes before the pain receded to more bearable levels.  Thankfully, this time Bruce wordlessly held out a bottle of water and some painkillers before Clint could go in search of them.

“Thanks,” he said hoarsely.

“How’s your head?” Bruce asked quietly, his eyebrows drawn together with concern.

“I’ll be fine in a little while,” Clint said, swallowing the painkillers with a mouthful of water.

Bruce nodded, but the concerned look never left his face.  “Seriously Doc,” Clint said with a grin.  “I swear I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not really reassuring,” Bruce replied dryly.

“Hey Barton,” Stark called out, walking over from where he and Jane had been discussing something to do with the many screens of data around them.  “Has Super Agent done his thing with your brain yet?” He wiggled his fingers at his temple which Clint assumed was supposed to indicate his and Phil’s bond.

Clint shrugged.  “I don’t feel anything different yet.”

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Stark said.

“Next time I’ll make sure it’s…” Clint began, but he trailed off when something deep in his mind _opened_ , like a door he hadn’t even known existed.

It was like an extra sense as much as a constant presence.  Clint could suddenly _feel_ Phil, reassuringly alive, like the buzz of pressure at the back of his mind.  There were no words, but Clint could feel the tingle of the bond and if he stretched out his senses a little, he could feel a solid, familiar weight.  The more he concentrated, the more Clint could feel the waves of emotion radiating from the _Philspace_.  He could easily imagine Phil pacing up and down, the lines of tension around his eyes deepening and a frown on his face the way it was only when he was _really_ worried about something.  As an experiment, Clint gathered as many reassuring thoughts as he could and shoved them at the new door in his head.  It was clumsy, but it worked because Clint felt the _Philspace_ calm and the pressure lessened a little.

When Clint opened eyes he didn’t even know he’d closed, he found the rest of the lab, now including Thor, silently staring at him.  It was more than a little creepy.  “I assume the energy transfer worked?” Jane asked.

Stark snorted.  “Of course it worked,” he said.  “Barton’s smiling like a love-sick puppy.”

“I am not,” Clint immediately scowled.

“Actually, you were,” Bruce said, slightly apologetically.

“He speaks truly,” Thor nodded.

Stark gave him a look as if to say, _See?_   Jane cut Stark off before he could say anything.  “What we need to do is concentrate on finding Agent Coulson,” she said.

“Anybody got any ideas on how to do that?” Clint drawled, trying not to just poke at the new _Philspace_ in his head.

There was a beat of silence among everyone gathered in the lab.  “I am afraid not, my friend,” Thor said sadly.  “I believe this bond between you and the Son of Coul is unique and therefore only you may gain understanding of it.”

Jane attempted to give Clint a reassuring smile from her boyfriend’s side.  “Theoretically, now that you and Agent Coulson are linked outside of normal space and time, it should be a simple matter of finding the correct energy signature and tracing it back to the source,” she explained.

Clint had been around scientists long enough to know how to translate that into English.  “But you have no idea how to actually do that,” he sighed.

“Well… no,” Jane said.  “Sorry.”

“Why don’t you just close your eyes and think of Coulson?” Nat said.  Clint turned in surprise to see her perched on the arm of the couch; he hadn’t heard her come in and judging by the expressions on the others’ faces, they hadn’t either.

“I…” Clint began, before he paused and thought about it.  “Do you think it’s really that easy?”

Natasha shrugged.  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Clint had to admit she had a point.  Closing his eyes, he took a moment to breathe before he concentrated on the new sense of pressure in the back of his mind.  For a second, the _Philspace_ hummed.  Sinking into himself, Clint blocked out everything around him and focused on Phil; the feeling of Phil’s strong arms wrapped around him, the familiar hints of emotion under his usual deadpan exterior, snuggling up on the couch as Phil watched one of his ridiculous reality TV shows.  He thought of everything he knew of Phil from the old Rangers tattoo on his shoulder to his insane collection of Captain America memorabilia.  And then, suddenly, it was as if Phil was right _there_ and Clint could sense exactly where he and everything him around him was.  As if _nothing_ could hide Phil from Clint ever again.

_Phil._

_Clint.  I… hey._

Phil’s voice echoed back to him in a flash of sensations and ideas.  Clint could feel exactly how worried Phil had been at being kidnapped, his guilt at almost dying and his anger towards Loki and his absolute _relief_ at knowing Clint was safe and completely himself again.  Clint hadn’t realised how much Loki compromising him with the spear had scared Phil and just how badly Phil wanted to hold Clint in his arms again and reassure himself that Clint was safe and whole.  Clint got all of this in a flash and he knew Phil was reading just as much from him.  Part of Clint, the part that had always been insecure and vulnerable, was scared at what Phil would see, but the rest of Clint was amazed at the warmth and love and _home_ radiating off Phil.

 _You’re in the lab_ , Phil’s halting voice said in his mind.  _With Stark and Dr. Banner and Dr. Foster and Thor.  I_ know _they’re all there.  And Natasha… she’s about to poke you._

Clint’s hand snapped up and grabbed Nat’s before her finger could make contact with his shoulder.  He heard her soft gasp of surprise.  _That’s cool!_   Clint had to hide his grin.  _Although, I do remember someone saying that there wouldn’t be any telepathy in this mind meld_.

There was a faint taste of irritation to Phil now, mixed in with a sense of awe and the hint of smugness.  _Well, it’s not like I’ve ever done this before.  And don’t even pretend you’re not happy about this.  I_ know _you are._

Clint didn’t see any point in denying it.  _Oh, I am.  Just think about how much easier it’s going to be to annoy you on missions now even when I’m not there?_

_Clint._

_Don’t deny it, Phil.  You love it._

Clint got a warm bust of love at that and even the exasperation mixed in with it couldn’t dim the feeling.  The warm rush sent Clint’s heart pounding because even though he _knew_ Phil loved him, it was still different to _feel_ the depth of that emotion and all the things and moments that came with it, like a mental scrapbook of everything Phil loved about Clint.

 _Hey, how’s the Valkyrie?_ Clint asked after the rush of emotion had faded.

_Eir’s fine, just exhausted._

Clint knew Eir was lying on the bed in the middle of the cell, her face startlingly pale, but he couldn’t _see_ it.  It was more like Clint knew what Phil knew without Phil actually needing to tell him.  Clint also found himself knowing that Anderson sometimes left Eir in Phil’s cell for hours with no pattern or reason for it, and while she almost always slept most of that time sleeping, Phil suspected Anderson had rigged the room outside the cell with monitoring equipment.

_When she wakes up, can you thank her?_

_I’ll tell her, Clint._

Clint drifted back from the humming bond reluctantly, even knowing the sooner he did, the sooner he could rescue Phil and actually hold him in his arms.  He didn’t even have to say goodbye, because he knew Phil could feel all of it.  When he opened his eyes, everyone in the lab was back to staring at him silently, only this time they’d crowded even closer.

“Will you people stop doing that?” Clint scowled.

Nat smirked, but everyone else ignored him.  “So did you find him?” Stark demanded excitedly.

Automatically, Clint touched the comforting buzz of _Philspace_.  “He’s about thirty miles outside of Zurich,” he replied.  “The area’s pretty forested, but there’s farmland too.  The compound where they’re holding Phil is an old converted farm.  If you get me a map, I can show you.”

“This, my friend, is excellent news!” Thor announced with a grin, as Stark whisked off to find a map, dragging Bruce with him.

Nat smirked at him again.  “You could say you finally had a superpower,” she said.

“You consider always knowing where Phil is to be a superpower?” Clint asked with an arched eyebrow.

“You wouldn’t?  You’ve seen what the man can do with candy.”

Clint grinned.  “You raise a good point,” he admitted.

Natasha sniffed.  “Of course I do.”

Thor was watching both of them with interest.  “You must tell me of Son of Coul’s battles with this candy,” he said.  “I have not seen it used effectively as a weapon, even though it is delicious.”

“Yeah, Thor’s kind of hooked on sugar,” Jane said in the following silence.

Clint blinked at that, but Thor shrugged sheepishly.  Taking advantage of the silence, Clint climbed to his feet. His muscles protested; after so long sitting still, both hyperaware and not, Clint’s body was tense and stiff and he grimaced as he stretched.  Stark hurried over as he did, interrupting Clint by handing him a large StarkPad with a map of Zurich and the surrounds covering the screen.  “Your map,” Stark said, grinning.

Clint resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Stark’s flourish and stared at the satellite image on the screen, attempting to translate the jumble of feelings and sensations into something he could use.  It took him a moment to realise that the _Philspace_ gave a sharp tug every time he moved the map in the right direction, so Clint stopped looking for landmarks and let instinct guide him.  “There,” he said finally, the satellite image now centred over an old farmhouse.

Stark grinned wider.  “I’ll get the jet fuelled up,” he said.  “JARVIS…”

“Shouldn’t we have a plan first?” Bruce pointed out.

“Like these assholes have got anything that can stop the Avengers,” Stark scoffed.

“We can’t go in as the Avengers,” Clint said quietly.  “Whoever it is that has Phil is using him against SHIELD on behalf of the World Security Council.  If we go in as the Avengers, we just give the Council another reason to go after SHIELD.”

“Hawkeye speaks truly,” Thor agreed.  “Our enemies hide behind shadows and misdirection to achieve their ends and through our actions we must not endanger the Son of Coul or Eir any further.”

Stark blinked, clearly surprised at Thor’s words and even Bruce was looking a little thrown.  It was easy to forget that although Thor preferred the simple, it wasn’t because he thought that way; he was single-minded and rarely subtle, but not simple.  The demigod returned Stark’s stare, his expression holding a hint of reproach.  “I am a Prince of Asgard,” he said.  “While I dislike the manipulations of politics, I am no stranger to them.”

Natasha smirked and Clint shot her a grin while Jane wisely hid her smile behind her hand.  Stark looked suitably abashed in a way that only Pepper ever usually managed.  “How about we move this to somewhere with food?” Clint asked in the following awkward silence.

“Uh, yeah,” Stark agreed, still looking at Thor.  “I’ve probably got Pop Tarts around somewhere if you’re hungry Big Guy.”

“Pop Tarts are indeed delicious,” Thor agreed.  He fell into step easily beside Stark as Stark led the way out of the lab, still talking loudly in an attempt to make up for his almost-insult to Thor.  Thor simply kept pace, grinning good-naturedly and adding his agreement at appropriate intervals.

“Sometimes I think Fury was crazy to think the Avengers Initiative was going to work,” Nat said quietly from next to Clint.

Clint turned to look at her.  “Was this before or after we saved New York?” he asked archly.

Natasha just gave him a dry look.  “I give you two weeks before you want to kill Stark,” she said.

“ _Everyone_ wants to kill Stark at some point,” Clint replied with a shrug and a grin.  “It’s part of his charm.  Just ask Pepper.”

“Besides,” he added when Nat huffed at him.  “People say the same thing about me and I’m still breathing.”

“That’s because I’d kill anyone who tried anything,” she said darkly.  “And so would Phil.”

 

 

The Avengers reassembled in the kitchen, along with Jane and Pepper and large amounts of food, because it turned out that not just Thor was hungry.  “So,” Stark said, waving a sandwich through the air to get everyone’s attention.  “If we can’t go in as the Avengers, how are we going to rescue Super Agent?”

“The first problem we have is getting into Switzerland without anyone finding out,” Bruce said, frowning.  “No offense Tony, but the arrival of Tony Stark is just as notable as Iron Man.”

Stark grinned.  “I take that as a compliment.  Besides, I _am_ Iron Man and the world knows it,” he said.  “I find subtlety to be overrated anyway.  Just as Pepper.”

Pepper simply sighed and looked up long enough from tapping away on her PDA to glare at Stark.  Stark waved away the dark look.  “What we _really_ need,” he continued, “is for whoever’s watching to think we’re somewhere other than where we are.”

“That’s actually fairly easy,” Pepper said, having obviously finished commanding her empire from her PDA for now.  It was moments like this that reminded Clint why Pepper and Phil were so close; between the two of them and their efficient multitasking, they could probably run the world with little trouble.  Although, as the competent and designer-suited powers that kept Stark Industries and SHIELD running, it could be argued that they already did.

“All we need to do is take the jet to Europe and stop in several different countries before you even get close to Zurich.  Then Dr. Foster and I can take the jet and make a few more stops, making sure we’re seen arriving,” Pepper explained.  “That way no one will actually know where you are when they realise you’re not on the jet anymore.”

“Pepper, have I told you lately how much I love you?” Stark declared.

Pepper just gave him a faintly aggravated look, but it was mixed with enough fondness and love to explain why she put up with him.  “And yet, I’m only worth twelve point five percent apparently.”

Stark was silent for a beat.  “You’re not going to let that one go, are you?” he said.  “I’m going to have to buy you a small European country in apology for saying that.”

“I’d settle for shoes,” Pepper told him.  “ _Lots_ of shoes.”

Even Steve grinned at the exchange.  Clint decided right then and there that he love Pepper Potts too.  “Once we’re near Zurich, it won’t be hard to get to the compound,” Clint said in an attempt to get the unofficial planning meeting back on track.  “The question is what to do once we get there.”

“I have a contact that could help,” Natasha said, speaking up.  “There is a small airfield, here.”  She pointed to a spot on the map on the tablet Stark had brought with him.  “The jet could stop here to refuel to cover us getting off.  From there, we can easily cover ground to this point here, which overlooks the farmhouse.”

Steve nodded.  “It’s a good plan,” he agreed.  “Do you have any information on the guard rotations or security measures, Agent Barton?”

Clint shook his head.  “No,” he replied.  “Phil never got a good look at them.  But if I can get here,” he pointed at a place on the map not far from Nat’s vantage point, “I should be able to spot them and cover you.”

“If you give me a wireless signal, JARVIS and I should be able to hack any electronic security they have,” Stark said.

“I would be happy to help rescue Agent Coulson in whatever capacity I can,” JARVIS intoned.

Bruce smiled a little abashedly when Steve turned to look at him.  “It’s all right, Captain, I’ll sit this one out,” he said.  “I can keep Tony company.”

“I’ll bring blueberries,” Stark grinned.

“That leaves Thor, Agent Romanov and me to break into the compound,” Steve said, his eyes fixed on the map.  Then he lifted his head to look at Clint.  “Unless you’re coming with us, Agent Barton?”

Clint was tempted, he really was.  He wanted to tear that farmhouse apart to get to Phil, but a little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like his former handler reminded him that he had a responsibility to his team.  “I really want to,” he said.  “But you need someone covering your exit.”

Nat gave him an impressed look and Clint smirked.  “And Captain?” he added.  “My name is Clint.  People only call me Agent Barton when I’m in trouble.”

“You must hear it all the time then,” Stark quipped.

Clint arched an eyebrow at him.  “Believe it or not Stark, I am a professional.”

Steve cut off Stark’s reply with a sharp glance.  “Alright Avengers,” he said.  “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: Thank you to all those that picked up my horrible typos and helped correct them! :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This story has kind of exploded. Thank you to everyone who has read/commented/kudosed! You guys are awesome :)

The night was cold and sharp when Clint stepped off the jet and the bad feeling that had been growing in the back of his mind solidified the second his boot hit the tarmac.  The realisation slammed into him with the force of a ten-ton truck, but he somehow made it down the stairs and off to the side before his body ground to a halt.

“What is it?” Natasha asked sharply from his side, her voice pitched low.

“He’s not here,” Clint breathed, his mind spinning and the _Philspace_ pulsing in his head.

Natasha cursed under her breath vehemently.  “Do you know where he is?”

“No,” Clint replied, his gaze still directed inwards.  “I think he’s still being moved.”  Clint paused long enough to look up into Natasha’s furious green eyes.  “But I don’t think he’s in the country anymore.”

Fear and anger churned low in Clint’s stomach.  They’d been so _close_ to getting Phil back and Clint just wanted to scream.  Instead, he took a deep breath of cold, Swiss night air and tried to figure out what the hell they were going to do next.  When Clint glanced at Natasha, he almost felt a hint of pity for whoever was going to be at the other end of the Black Widow’s wrath.  Almost.  “They knew we were coming,” she said darkly.  “Someone tipped them off.”

“Your contact?” Clint asked, because there were only a few people it could be.

“He’d better hope for his sake that it was not,” she answered, the barest hint of a Russian accent colouring her words.

With an angry nod, Natasha stalked off in the direction of her contact on the edge on the airfield.  For a moment, Clint debated whether or not he should follow her, but he couldn’t find any sympathy for the man, not after Clint had been so close to finding Phil.  As Clint watched Natasha talk to the contact, he felt his fingers twitch for his bow.  He’d been working with Natasha for long enough to be able to read her, and he knew from the way her movements were getting more and more controlled that whatever the contact was saying was making her even angrier.  Not that she showed it.  One of the Black Widow’s strengths had always been that her victims didn’t know they were in her trap until she sprang it.

Quiet footsteps came up beside Clint.  “What’s wrong?” Stark’s low voice asked.

Clint turned to the billionaire, surprised at the quiet way Stark was acting.  Then he caught the worry in the man’s dark eyes and the equally worried figures of Thor, Jane, Bruce, Steve and Pepper over his shoulder.  For a team that had technically only gone on one mission together, they were starting to pick up on each other’s signals with more ease than they should.  “Phil’s not here,” Clint said, his tone inflectionless.

“What do you mean Coulson’s not here?” Stark said.

“I mean they knew we were coming,” Clint replied, keeping his eyes on Natasha.  He had to twist his fingers into the material of his cargo pants to stop himself reaching for his bow and putting an arrow through the throat of Natasha’s contact.  “They moved him.  Phil’s not in the country anymore.”

Stark cursed, immediately pulling out the tablet he’d been carrying for the rescue mission.  “Do you have any idea where they took him?”

Clint shook his head.  “I think they’re still travelling,” he said.  “I can’t get a good feel for his location.”

Still watching Natasha, Clint caught the lightning fast move that had her slamming her contact’s face into her knee.  The man dropped to the cracked tarmac, groaning loud enough for Clint to hear.  Beside him, Stark winced.  “Should we stop her?” he asked.

“No.”  Clint wasn’t in the mood for mercy anymore.

Heavier footsteps coming towards them told Clint that Steve Rogers was approaching.  “Stark… Clint,” he greeted.  “What’s going on?”

Clint could tell from his tone that Steve wanted to intercede in Natasha’s interrogation.  Leaving it up to Stark to explain what was going on, Clint watched as Natasha continued to question her contact.  The Black Widow in a rare temper was a sight to behold, but this time the reason for it hit too close to home for Clint to find any enjoyment in it.  Vaguely, Clint heard Stark retreat, no doubt to tell the others what was going on.

“You, Agent Coulson and Agent Romanov are very close, aren’t you?” Steve said after a moment.

“He believed in us when the rest of the world turned its back,” Clint found himself admitting.  Blinking, he finally turned away from Natasha to look Steve in the eye.  “Neither Nat or I are innocent.  We’ve made a lot of mistakes.  But Phil… he trusted us, trusted _in_ us, when we gave him every reason not to.”  Clint paused to give Steve a faintly bitter smile.  “Even if I didn’t love him there wouldn’t be much I wouldn’t do to get him back.”

“I had a friend like that,” Steve said softly.  “He saved a scrawny, loud-mouthed orphan from a bunch of bullies because he saw something no one else did.  And then he kept saving me, even though I refused to back down from fights I couldn’t win.  He had my back for so long, I’m still learning how to live without him.”

Steve gave him a sad smile.  “You would have liked him, I think,” he said.  “You have a similar sense of humour.”

“He got a name?” Clint asked, even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

“James Buchannan Barnes,” Steve said.  “But everyone called him Bucky.” Steve’s eyes unfocused for a minute at the memories of his not-so-distant past rose up to haunt him, before he shook off the melancholy.  “We’ll find Coulson, Clint,” he said, turning so he could place a reassuring hand on Clint’s shoulder.  “No matter what it takes.”

Clint swallowed.  “Thank you,” he said a little hoarsely.  Clint wasn’t Phil; he didn’t get tongue-tied in front of Captain America because he believed Steve was the perfect soldier, but with a few quiet words on a cold tarmac in Switzerland, Clint did see what Phil had been trying to tell him all along.  Steve Rogers was a good man, down to his very bones.

Movement caught the corner of Clint’s eye and he was acting before he consciously thought about it.  His bow was a familiar weight in his hand as it snapped into place and between one heartbeat and the next Clint had nocked an arrow onto the string.  To his right, Clint could see Nat pointing both her guns at the intruder, her former contact lying in an unconscious heap behind her.  Even Steve was alert and ready, even though he didn’t have a weapon or his shield in his hands.

“Don’t shoot!” the man called out.

Clint eyed him carefully.  He was dressed in combat boots and his clothes were all dark colours.  That, combined with the obvious training in the way he held himself, had Clint immediately wary.  The man seemed to recognise the tension in the air and stopped where he was, hands held out to either side of his body as if to signal he wasn’t armed.  Clint wasn’t stupid enough to think that meant the man actually _was_ unarmed and kept the arrow nocked and aimed.

“Who are you?” Steve called out, taking charge and behind them Clint was conscious of Thor and Stark moving to stand in front of Pepper, Jane and Bruce.

“My name is Kaplan,” the man said, keeping still even through Clint saw him eyeing his bow and Nat’s guns apprehensively.  “I used to work on the security detail under the command of the World Security Council.”

Clint tensed at Kaplan’s words and felt more than saw Steve do the same beside him.  “Do you think he’s one of the men responsible for kidnapping Agent Coulson?” Steve asked him in a low voice.

“I’m more concerned with the words _used to_ ,” Clint said.

“Look, I can explain!” Kaplan called out.

“Then you’d better start,” Steve replied.

There was movement behind Clint before he heard Stark’s footsteps walk up to them.  “His name is Paul Kaplan,” Stark told them quietly.  “Age thirty-eight.  Joined the Army straight out of high school and was recruited by a private security company seven years ago.  Since then he’s been in and out of Europe and the US, mainly as a bodyguard for politicians.”  Stark’s gaze sharpened when he finished.  “Give JARVIS and me more than two minutes and I’ll know anything and everything you want about this guy.”

“The man you’re after is called Conrad Anderson,” Kaplan called out, looking tenser the longer Clint and Natasha pointed weapons at him and the longer Steve and Stark spoke in soft voices.

Kaplan’s words, however, broke up Steve and Stark’s hushed conversation.  Both men tensed beside Clint and Clint had to stop his fingers twitching and sending his arrow flying. “How do you know Anderson?” Stark demanded.

“Son of a bitch used to be my boss,” Kaplan said with a twist of his lips. “He used to be responsible for all of the security operations involving the members of the World Security Council.” Kaplan eyed everyone warily again, his eyes lingering on the still unconscious body of Natasha’s contact.

Seeming to understand his continued health depended on the information he had, Kaplan kept talking. “Most of the time we just ran protective detail on the Council members,” he said. “But about a month ago, I was task to go with a team to Prague about two hours after aliens turned up in New York City.” He paused for a brief second. “I assume you already know what was in Prague?”

Clint felt like his muscles were so tense they were going to snap. His patience was quickly running out and from the way Nat was standing as unmoving as a statue, so was hers. It wouldn’t seem like much to the others, but to Clint it was like a beacon. “Do you know much about the Black Widow, Kaplan?” Clint said before Steve or Stark could ask another question. “She doesn’t like it when people try her patience. Me, I’m just inclined to shoot you. But the Widow? She likes to take her time.”

Kaplan paled, his eyes glancing nervously towards Nat. “Okay, so here’s how it is,” he said. “The Council sent me and my team to Prague to watch for a HYDRA device linked to the Tesseract. They don’t trust SHIELD. We were just supposed to watch it in case SHIELD failed in New York, but Anderson hijacked the op. He killed anyone who wasn’t loyal to him. The only reason he missed me was because I was outside taking a piss.”

Pausing, Kaplan glanced between Clint and Natasha. When he seemed convinced that they weren’t about to kill him, he continued. “There’s a subgroup within the Council, a few of the real powerful movers and shakers, and it’s  _those_  guys who Anderson really works for. They want to control SHIELD for their own ends, mainly to increase their business empires and political influence, but to do that they needed a way of eliminating Fury from the picture. Your guy, the one they picked up in Prague, is their way of doing that.”

Stark cursed. Clint resisted the urge to close his eyes as his stomach sank in despair. If this was a conspiracy involving rogue members of the World Security Council, it could take months to get close enough to Phil to rescue him, even with the link. “But how did Anderson and the people he works for know Agent Coulson was going to be there?” Bruce asked quietly.

“They didn’t,” Kaplan answered. “As far as I can tell, Anderson figured SHIELD would find out about the device eventually and he was going to grab a senior SHIELD agent when they came for it. The fact that he grabbed Fury’s right-hand man instead was nothing more than a stroke of luck.”

There was a moment of silence as that chilling news sank in. “Why are you telling us this?” Steve asked. “Why are you helping us?”

“Because this isn’t what I signed up for,” Kaplan answered. “And because Anderson killed good friends of mine and I want someone to make him pay for that.”

The truth in Kaplan’s words had Clint relaxing a little, even if he didn’t lower his guard or his bow at all. “These people Anderson works for?” Stark said. “They have names?”

Kaplan paused. “I don’t know,” he said. “But you might want to start with Niels Johann. Anderson was on the phone with him a lot.”

Stark cursed loudly. “Niels Johann? As in Johann Telecommunications?” he said. “ _He’s_  on the Council? That’s like asking Hammer to play nice with other people’s toys.”

“He’s on the Council,” Kaplan nodded. Then he hesitated. “There’s something else you should know. I don’t know what, but I think Anderson’s been planning his move for a long time and blackmailed Fury and SHIELD is just the  _beginning_  of it.”

“This is  _not_  good,” Stark hissed in a low voice.

“No shit, Stark,” Clint growled back, anger and fear and helplessness twisting through his stomach.

“You going to let me leave here alive now?” Kaplan called out.

Natasha finally took a step forward and Kaplan instinctively moved back, his gaze jerked up to watch her. “If I ever find out that you betrayed us or that any of your information is wrong, I will hunt you down,” she threatened.

Kaplan swallowed nervously and gave a jerky nod. “And I’ll be right behind her,” Clint added.

Clint didn’t lower his bow until Kaplan was out of sight and the tension in Nat’s shoulders eased a little. “So…” Stark drawled, trying to lighten the mood. “Anyone got any good news?”

“That depends on your definition of good news,” Clint said, shifting his bow to rest against his shoulder to leave his hands free. He almost smirked when he felt several pairs of eyes bore into the back of his head. “I think I know where they moved Phil.”

“Great,” Stark said. “Let’s go get him.”

“It’s not as easy as that, Stark,” Clint replied, turning to face everyone.

“Anderson has a longer reach than we thought,” Nat agreed. “We can’t be certain he won’t find out we’re coming.”

Stark scowled. “Yeah, I’m getting really pissed off about that,” he said. “And I’m going to do something about it. By the time we land wherever we’re going, JARVIS and I are going to know everything there is to know about Conrad Anderson, including what kind of cake that asshole had at his first birthday party.”

“We need a better plan than just chasing the bastard around the world,” Clint growled in frustration, running his hand through his hair. As much as his instincts hated it, Clint knew that shooting everyone between him and Phil wasn’t really a viable plan.

“He is right,” Thor said. “Chasing shadows without thought will not rescue the Son of Coul.”

“So what do we do?” Pepper asked, voicing everyone’s thoughts. From her expression, her thoughts were very much like Clint’s because she looked like she wanted to hunt down Phil’s captors as much as Clint did.

“What if we somehow made Anderson come to us?” Jane said.

Bruce shook his head. “It wouldn’t work,” he replied. “Anderson holds all the cards right now and he knows it.”

“So we need to stack the deck in our favour,” Stark said.

“I thought that’s what we were doing by rescuing Phil,” Clint said dryly.

“What if we call Fury,” Natasha said after a pause. Clint looked at her and saw the determination and the anger in her green eyes. “If Anderson’s endgame is to control SHIELD, then he’d have to counter any move Fury made.”

“Yeah, but Nat,” Clint said. “The way Anderson is controlling Fury in the first place is by threatening to hurt Phil.”

Natasha cocked her head to the side. “It is an effective threat,” she told him. “But you can only kill your victim once. Anderson is smart enough to know that the second he kills Coulson, he loses all control over Fury. He’ll need to have neutralised Fury before Coulson stops being useful to keep alive and unharmed.”

“That’s… a very harsh way of putting it,” Bruce said softly.

Nat shrugged. “I used to be Russian,” she said. “I tend not to be overly sentimental about these things.”

“So what you’re saying,” Steve said, watching Natasha with a considering expression on his face. “Is that you want to use Fury and SHIELD as a distraction.”

Stark blinked. “That could work,” he said with a grin.

Natasha arched an eyebrow as if to say, _of course it would_. Stark simply rolled his eyes. “If we get Fury to call a meeting with Anderson, make Anderson think Fury’s planning something… he’ll be distracted and he won’t be paying attention to Coulson,” he said. “Do you think he’d help us?”

“For Phil?” Clint said. “We could ask him to do almost anything.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Stark grinned.


	10. Chapter 10

“This had better be good,” Fury growled, his black leather coat snapping dramatically behind him.  Fury always had known how to make an entrance and this one was no different; he stalked out of the door to the roof with Agent Hill at behind one shoulder and Agent Sitwell behind the other. The man had to be part superhero, because no one else was that melodramatic.

Clint smirked from where he was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest and tried really hard to ignore the sweat slowly trickling down his back.  Being decked out in combat gear with this much humidity in the air sucked.  “I wouldn’t let Black Widow hear you belittling her plan like that, sir,” Clint said.  “You know how that hurts her feelings.”

Fury narrowed his eye in Clint’s direction and for a moment Agent Hill looked surprised to see Clint leaning against the wall. Clint figured she had a point because he was usually in a perch somewhere covering everyone with a bow or a gun. But since the team had decided that Clint and Natasha were the best people to try and convince Fury of their plan, this time it was JARVIS who was covering them via the traffic cameras.

“What I want to know is who’s running SHIELD if you’re all here?” Stark said, stepping out of the shadows beside Nat – and what had Clint said about melodramatic superheroes?

Fury ignored him, still watching Clint. “When you went tearing off after Coulson, I didn’t expect you to involve all the other Avengers,” he said.

Clint arched an eyebrow. “No, but you hoped,” he replied.

Humour and a hint of admiration flashed through Fury’s eye.  “I’m an optimist,” he said.  He glanced around the rooftop, before his gaze settled back on Clint.  “So, do you want to tell me why my presence and the presence of a detachment of my best agents were required in the backstreets of Bangkok?  And on a rooftop?  Did you have to play to the stereotype, Barton?”

Clint shrugged.  “It’s got a good line of sight.”

“Of what?” Fury frowned.

“Of that,” Natasha said, nodding her head in the direction of the street below.  Beside her, Stark just smirked.

As if Nat’s words conjured them, two sleek SUVs turned onto the relatively quiet street beneath the roof.  Both SUVs were new and shiny and stood out from the poor, crumbling surroundings like neon signs.  The two SUVs parked in front of the largest building on the street and several thugs armed with assault rifles climbed out, eyes scanning the street for anything out of place.  _Amateurs_ , Clint thought.  Not once did any of the thugs look up.

Anderson got out of the backseat of the second of the two SUVs.  He gave a series of sharp orders and two thugs immediately jumped to do his bidding.  From the back of the first SUV, they dragged out a long, heavy looking wooden crate.  The thugs moved to put it on the ground, but a second series of sharp orders had them scurrying inside the building.  Anderson and the rest of the thugs soon followed.

“What _exactly_ do you want me to do?” Fury asked quietly.

“We were hoping that you could go down there and help Anderson have a very bad evening,” Natasha said.

“He’s not going to like that,” Sitwell muttered.  “But sure, let’s piss off the blackmailer that has Coulson.”

Clint smirked again.  “That’s the point,” he said.

At Fury’s sharp, questioning look, Clint dropped the smirk.  “Ever since we go close to finding Phil two days ago outside Zurich, Anderson has kept him close and moving,” he explained.  “We need a distraction to keep Anderson occupied so we can get to him.”

“How do you know that?” Hill asked, her blue eyes narrowed.  “How are you tracking Coulson?”

Clint paused, not really wanting to explain.  He knew he couldn’t keep the link between him and Phil from SHIELD forever, but he didn’t really think a rooftop on a humid night in Thailand was the time to blurt out it out.  He’d tell Fury after they got Phil back with Phil at his side.  “Jealous, Hill?” Stark said with a quick sidelong glance at him.  “It’s not like any of your minions could compare to me.”  Clint took a moment to be insanely grateful that Stark had covered for him and nodded his thanks to Stark when Fury and the others weren’t looking.

“It doesn’t matter how we found him,” Nat cut in.  “What matters is this is our one chance to get Coulson back so we can deal with those responsible.”

Fury’s sharp gaze shifted to her and he looked faintly impressed.  “You know who Anderson works for,” he said.

“Well, I wouldn’t say _know_ exactly,” Stark replied.  “But we have narrowed it down to a very short list.  Starting with the man who owns the building across the street.”

Agent Hill stepped away, talking quietly but tersely into her ever-present earpiece.  Fury just kept watching Clint, Stark and Natasha.  “Do you have a particular time when I should make Conrad Anderson’s evening… difficult?” Fury asked.

Clint hid a smile as Stark narrowed his eyes at Fury’s mention of Anderson’s first name.  A name they hadn’t told him.  Clint wanted to tell Stark that it was pretty damn unusual for Fury not to know who was behind the whole conspiracy even though Anderson had probably warned him not to go looking.  Not for the first time, Clint wondered just what was in reports Phil used to give Fury every week.

“Whenever you like, sir,” Clint said as Stark’s watch gave a discrete beep.  “We wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”

“We have another date anyway,” Stark said.

Clint felt Fury and Sitwell’s eyes run calculatingly over them.  He knew what they looked like.  Nat was armed to the teeth and dressed in her catsuit and Clint was wearing what he usually did on an op when he wasn’t wearing his own fieldsuit – combat boots, black cargo pants and a black t-shirt, with his bow and quiver at his feet.  That in itself wasn’t that strange because most SHIELD agents were used to Clint and Natasha roaming around in combat gear, but it _was_ when Tony Stark was also dressed in black and visibly armed.

“You’re going after Agent Coulson right now, aren’t you?” Sitwell said.

“That _would_ be why we asked for the distraction,” Stark snarked back.

“Hill,” Fury called out.  “I want agents ready to move on that building and Anderson in two minutes.”

“Already on standby, sir,” Hill said.

“Good,” Fury nodded, before turning his sharp, one-eyed gaze back to Clint.  “Bring him home, Barton,” he ordered, before he was gone as dramatically as he’d arrived, Sitwell and Hill following in his wake and the latter still giving orders into her earpiece.

 

 

Clint stared down at the Chao Phraya River and the edge of Bangkok port below and tried really hard to ignore the tropical heat that was still suffocating, even this close to dawn.  The cracked concrete of the balcony wall was pressing painfully into his abdomen through his t-shirt, but Clint ignored that too.  With Phil barely a mile away, kneeling unmoving on a crumbling balcony in the slums of Khlong Toei was pretty much going against every instinct Clint had.  Despite his reputation, anyone who had worked with Clint knew of his almost inhuman patience for holding position and waiting for his target, but that patience was eluding him this time.

“So…” he drawled in an attempt to distract himself from the endless waiting.  “Does anybody see _anything_ yet?”

Somewhere below, Natasha was slipping through shadows and breaching perimeters, stealthy and hidden.  “No,” she growled.

“You know, for someone who’s supposed to be a sniper, you’re kind of impatient,” Stark said.  Stark was sitting in a car in an alley half a mile away monitoring everything through JARVIS, while Bruce had volunteered to sit this one out with Pepper and Jane, even though they were all monitoring the mission over the radio.  Clint thought that was probably a bad idea, but he challenged anyone to say no to Pepper Potts when she was determined.

“This is _Phil_ ,” Clint snapped.

“We’re going to get him back, Clint,” Steve said reassuringly, steel underlying his tone.  “We won’t leave here without him.”

“Heads up,” Stark called out a beat later.  “JARVIS has something.  Two guards on the west side.”

Movement caught Clint’s eye and an instant later, Clint had an arrow nocked in the string of his bow.  Across the street, the relatively disused dock and the old, rusted cargo ship were painted with shadow and looked like a relic from a more prosperous past.  The nearby warehouse was abandoned and crumbling, the once proud structure in as dire need of repairs as the rest of the dock.  A large crane towered to the east, blocking part of the dock from Clint’s position.

Clint’s keen eyes picked up two guards patrolling the western edge of the warehouse, not too far from the giant hole in what had once been a seven-foot wire perimeter fence.  The guards weren’t paying much attention to their surroundings.  One of them was smoking and though both of them were armed, neither guard had his hands on his weapon.

“I thought there were supposed to be eight guards?” Clint asked.  “You see anything, Nat?”

“I can see two guards north-west of the warehouse, blocking the route to the cargo ship,” Natasha replied succinctly.  “No signs of any other patrols yet.”

Stark let out a frustrated sigh, clearly irritated.  “JARVIS is having trouble breaking through the firewall to get access to the satellite,” he grumbled.  “I need a minute before I can get a visual.”

“Tony, are you hacking into a _government satellite_?” Pepper’s stressed sounding voice echoed over the radio.

“Pepper?  Pep, what did I say about talking over the mission radio?” Stark said.  “Besides, this is for _Coulson_.”

“I know, I know,” Pepper muttered tensely.  “It’s just… never mind, sorry.”

Clint heard the sound of Stark muttering over the radio.  “Are you sure you’ve got the right place, Barton?” Stark asked.

“Yes,” Clint said.  The _Philspace_ in his head was almost vibrating with being this close to Phil.  “He’s there.”

“Okay,” Steve said, cutting through the growing tension before anyone could start bickering.  “We need a better look at who’s guarding the ship.  Black Widow, you’re with me.  Everyone else hold position.”

There was silence over the radio for a few minutes, broken only by the occasional soft scuff of a footstep against cracked concrete.  Clint gritted his teeth as he listened, ears straining, and waited for either Steve or Nat to report in.  “What’s going on?  Cap?” Stark asked, as impatient as he’d accused Clint of being.

“I can see another two-man patrol.  North-east from the first two,” Steve said.  “Hawkeye, can you see them?”

Clint cursed under his breath.  “Negative.  I can’t see shit from here,” he said.  “The crane is blocking my line of sight.”

“Can you change positions?” Steve asked.

“No,” Clint said, taking a deep breath to calm his worry and frustration.  “This is the clearest line of sight I can get on the ship.”

“Stark, any update on the satellite?” Steve said.

“Thirty seconds and JARVIS and I will have it,” Stark said, his tone clipped as he concentrated.  “You can have the Hawk leave his perch.  JARVIS and I will cover you.”

“Then let Hawkeye join us for our attack,” Thor said.

With a feral grin, Clint expertly checked his gun was snug in its holster and his quiver was secure across his back as he flung a set of ropes over the side of the balcony.  Then, wrapping a hand around the rope, he vaulted over the balcony railing.  Clint felt the heat on the palms of his gloves as he sped down the rope, but with ability of long practice, he controlled his speed with ease.  Ten seconds later, his boots hit the cracked tar outside the fence with barely a sound.

“I’m on the ground,” he reported, unhooking his bow from his shoulder as he scanned the darkness around him, but no one had noticed his descent.

Creeping forward, Clint headed for the dark shapes of one of the outer buildings near the dock, making sure to keep in the shadows.  Even in the almost moonless night, his sharp eyes were enough to pick his way through the crumbling structures without too much trouble.  Clint paused in a deep patch of shadow and scanned the darkness for the guard patrols and for anything he might have missed from above.  He caught a glimpse of movement in the shadows on the other side of the building he was crouched behind and smirked when he realized it was just Nat.

Sighting movement beyond them and the hole in the wire perimeter fence that Clint had spotted from above, he caught Nat’s attention.  _Movement to the left_ , he signaled silently.  _Ten o’clock_.

He watched the guard patrol with sharp eyes, noting these two men were different from the two he’d seen from above.  Clint watched the figures move towards and then inside the large central warehouse, keeping part of his attention on the crouched shadow across the complex that was Natasha.  “We’ve got eight men on the ground,” she said, the radio picking up her quiet words to her team mates with ease.  “Roving patrols, but not alert.”

“All right, I’ve got the satellite feed for the area,” Stark said triumphantly.  “And I count eight guards too, but two of them just went inside the warehouse.”

“ _I can run a thermal imagine sweep of the compound if it would help_ ,” JARVIS’ voice echoed over the radio. Clint blinked a little in surprise at being able to hear JARVIS over the radio.

“You can do that?” Stark sounded slightly surprised himself.

“ _Of course, sir_ ,” JARVIS said.  “ _I have a considerable amount of access to the satellite network at the moment.  Would a thermal scan be of use_?”

“Yeah.  Run it JARVIS,” Stark said.  “Okay… I have six heat signatures inside the fence and four outside, which I’m assuming is the four of you, right?  Another two heat signatures inside the main building… they look like they’re doing a sweep, but there’s no one else there.”

Almost immediately, Clint felt his gaze move to the small, rusted cargo ship sitting beside the dock.  The _Philspace_ gave a sharp tug in response.  “He’s on the ship,” he said.

Stark cursed.  “Well, according to the scan, there’s at least five more heat signatures on the ship, almost all of them on the bridge, but I can’t get a good read on the lower levels,” he said.

Steve let out a breath.  “That’s going to make things difficult,” he said.  “Can you see a way to get us to that ship, Stark?”

“ _I’m afraid not, Captain_ ,” JARVIS answered.  “ _The dock is too open, even for individuals of your considerable skills.  I calculate an eight-three percent chance of a patrol seeing you before you make it to the ship_.”

“Those are not good odds, my friends,” Thor said.

Tuning out the voices over the radio for a second, Clint scanned the area around him and felt a smirk grow when his eyes locked onto a dark outbuilding to his left.  His mind raced as he followed the invisible path across stacks of old shipping containers and felt the plan come together in his mind.  His eyes narrowed a little when he spotted the alert sentry using the roof of a nearby storehouse as a post – and how the _hell_ had he missed that from above?  “I have a way in,” he said, cutting into Stark and Steve’s debate on strategy.

“How?” Steve immediately asked.

“Up high,” he answered simply.  “Climb on a roof, avoid the sentry and then use the tops of the stacks of shipping containers.  If I can get to the crane, I can get far enough to drop down onto the top of the cargo ship’s bridge.”

“The _sentry_?” Steve’s voice sounded irritated.  “Stark, weren’t you supposed to be warning us about that?”

“I…” Stark began.

 _“The heat signature from the sentry on the roof has been almost completely obscured by the heat produced by the chimney he is using for cover_ ,” JARVIS broke in.  “ _Until we were looking for it, it was invisible to my analysis_.”

“That is not our only problem,” Thor said.  “Hawkeye has a way onto the ship, but the guards still remain between the rest of us and the Son of Coul.”

“We could just take them out,” Natasha said.  “If they’re dead, they can’t see us.”

“Dead?  But…” Clint heard the soft echo of Jane’s voice over the radio, from where she, Pepper and Bruce were obviously still listening in.

“We can’t afford to take out the guards,” Steve said firmly.  “There’s too many of them and we can’t risk one of them alerting Anderson.  Or have a bunch of bodies lying around on a dock.”

“Well, somebody figure out something fast, or I’m going in by myself,” Clint growled, his body thrumming with adrenaline and impatience.

“Stark, can you see any other possible way past the guards?” Steve asked.

Stark was silent for a minute and Clint could feel himself getting more and more impatient.  If Stark and the others hadn’t come up with a good option in the next thirty seconds, he was leaving them behind, team or not.  “Okay,” Stark’s voice said.  “We have two options:  do you want door A or door B?”

“ _Sir, I believe_ …” JARVIS began, just as Steve growled out Stark’s name in a low voice.

“Yeah, okay,” Stark interrupted.  “This isn’t the time for complicated pop culture references.  Door A is the option Barton already spotted: if you can get to the crane, you should be able to climb it and get to the bridge of the ship from there.”

“And the other option?” Steve asked.

“Well, Cap,” Stark said.  “ _Exactly_ how high is it that you can jump?”

“Jump?” Steve echoed and even Clint had to agree that it sounded strange – until he realized what Stark was getting at.

“I can talk you around the patrols at the west end of the dock and…” Stark started to explain.

“And from there you think I can jump high enough to reach the deck of the cargo ship?” Steve sounded surprised and a little bit embarrassed.  “Stark, I don’t think I can do that.”

“We must,” Thor said.  “For the Son of Coul, we must find a way.  I will help you.”

“See?  Thor’s going to help.  You’ll do great, Cap,” Stark replied.  “You won’t be close to the bridge from there, but at least you’ll be on the ship to help Barton if he needs it.”

“Okay,” Steve took a deep breath.  “Hawkeye…”

“I’m already moving,” Clint said.  The second he’d had the chance, Clint had easily scaled the drainpipe up to the roof of the outbuilding and keeping one eye on the sentry as he paused in the shadows, he was already plotting his way to the crane.  The itch between his shoulder blades warned him, however, that things weren’t nearly as simple as they appeared, but for now Clint ignored it.

“Clint, I’ll meet you at the crane in two minutes,” Natasha said quietly a moment later.

Clint smirked, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline of a high-stakes mission.  “I’ll see you there,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, finally we get to the rescue mission! I'm sorry for leaving it on somewhat of a cliff hanger, but the chapter was getting too long to leave it as one part :( I hope to have the next part up soon!


	11. Chapter 11

Clint instantly dropped into a crouch atop a large stack of shipping containers as he felt the _Philspace_ give a sharp pulse in the back of his mind.  From his vantage point, he could see the dark shadows of Steve and Thor slipping around the guard patrols towards the bow of the cargo ship and the rooftop sentry near the perimeter fence.  No one appeared to be paying Clint any attention, but the _Philspace_ gave another sharp tug.

Taking a deep breath, Clint sank into himself, opening the link even as he stretched out his hyperaware senses around him.  _Phil?_

_You’re outside._

It wasn’t a question.  Clint could sense the layers of surprise and fear and relief colouring Phil’s thoughts.  _We all are_ , he replied.  He knew Phil could tell through the link that Thor and Steve were at the bow of the ship, Stark was monitoring everything through JARVIS and Natasha was moving towards the crane to meet Clint without Clint having to say anything.

_You need to be careful.  They’ve rigged the whole ship with cameras._

Clint grimaced.  _What about the top of the tower?  Have they rigged the roof above the bridge?_

_I don’t think so, but they’ve had me tied up for hours.  They could have.  The guards seem pretty paranoid._

From the images Phil sent him, Clint could see that the guards in the ship’s tower were far more alert than the guards patrolling outside.  The guards inside also appeared to be Anderson’s own men, rather than Thai mercenaries like the ones guarding the dock.  “Guys,” Clint said quietly over the radio.  “We have a small problem.  The guards inside the ship are Anderson’s own men and they’re acting kind of twitchy.”

“You can see them?” Stark asked.

“Not yet,” Clint said.  It was surprisingly easy to concentrate on the mission with the buzz of the active link in the back of his mind.  It was a little like the constant hum of his earpiece and the background conversations of the other SHIELD agents, except he could constantly feel Phil the whole time like another set of senses.

As Clint spoke he rose from his crouch and started moving towards the edge of the stack of shipping containers.  He didn’t hesitate when his boot hit the edge and in a fluid movement, he leapt straight off the end.  A beat later, his hands grabbed the edge of the top container of the next, higher stack.  His boots hit the side of the container, stopping his body slamming into it, and with a quick movement Clint pulled himself up over the edge and rolled back to his feet.  He kept moving, running across the top of the container, before leaping for the next stack.  Clint felt the rush of air as he dropped onto the lower stack and he tucked his body forwards, landing in a roll and coming back up onto his feet in a fluid movement.

“Then how do you..?” he heard Stark mutter.  “Oh.  Super Agent.”

“Yeah,” Clint said, leaping, tucking and rolling onto another stack of containers.  “He also said they’ve wired the ship with cameras.”

“Stark…” Steve began.

“JARVIS and I are already on it,” Stark said.  “Give me about ninety seconds and I’ll have access to the camera feeds.”

Clint took a final leap and pulled himself up onto the top of the container stack closest to the crane.  He paused, crouching again, now close enough to peer through the windows of the ship’s bridge.  Unlike the guards on the dock, these men were alert and armed with assault rifles.  There were three guards in the bridge itself, two standing watch and one constantly circling.  Clint could see two other guards patrolled the lower levels of the tower and every so often, each of the guards would move outside to cover the outside staircase that ran down one side of the tower to the deck, making either going up or down the outside stairs of the tower next to impossible.  What Clint couldn’t see, however, was any sign of either Phil or the Valkyrie.

_Phil?_

_I’m two levels down from the bridge.  It’s a small room on the eastern side._

The flashed images Clint got with the words showed a small room that was bare and almost industrial looking.  Phil was alone and tied to a chair in the middle of the room, with no sign of Eir.  Even though Clint was only seeing it through the link, he had no trouble noticing the dried blood that had left trails down one of Phil’s arms and the dark bruises that covered his skin.  A large, almost black bruise covered the side of his jaw, his lip was slip and Clint could also see bruises disappearing under his t-shirt.  The anger Clint was feeling about seeing the black and blue marks on Phil’s skin must have filtered through the link, because he felt a sense of calm shift through his mind.

_I’m okay, Clint.  I’ve had a lot worse._

Clint heard the soft rustle of fabric and suddenly Natasha was crouching beside him.  He wasn’t quite sure how she’d gotten past the guards or climbed on top of the stack of containers, but then Clint never really knew how Natasha did half the things she did.  In the dim light, her expression was tense and drawn and she touched his arm gently.  It was only at the feeling of her cool fingers against his forearm that made Clint realize the expression that must be showing on his face.  He shook his head and smiled slightly and Natasha relaxed, realizing it wasn’t serious.

“Stark,” Clint said quietly.  “I need a way into the tower, two levels down on the east side.”

“You’re not going to like the options,” Stark replied, not even asking why Clint needed that particular level.  “The first is down the stairs on the outside of the tower.  The only problem is it’s covered in security cameras and you’d have to pass at least two patrolling guards.”

It was the route Clint had seen earlier and Stark’s description didn’t make it seem any easier.  “Great,” he muttered.  “Please tell me there’s a second option?”

“Unless you can pass through solid walls, the only other way to that level is through the bridge itself,” Stark answered.  “Either way, I can hack the camera feeds, but you and Agent Romanov are on your own to take out the guards.”

For a long moment, Clint watched the guards patrolling the tower of the cargo ship.  “What do you think, Nat?” he asked quietly.

She watched the guard rotations for a long, silent moment.  “Difficult, but not impossible,” she said, before turning her gaze back on Clint.  “If Stark can occupy the cameras, you and I can take out the patrols on the outside staircase.”

Clint trusted her assessment.  They’d been partners for a long time.  “All right,” he said.  “Stark, Cap: we’ll be on the roof of the bridge in about thirty seconds.”

“Thor and I will be on deck right behind you,” Steve said.

Above them, the crane towered over the stack of shipping containers he and Nat were crouched on and partially over the dock below.  Even from the crane’s furthest point, there was still a gap of about twenty feet to the roof of the ship’s tower.  Clint cocked his head to the side, calculating angles and momentum, just like he would any difficult shot.

_Clint… you’re not seriously considering that, are you?_

He couldn’t resist smirking at Phil.  _It’s hardly the first time I’ve leapt off something tall with no one to catch me_.

Drawing one of his grappling arrows, Clint fired the cable so it securely hooked around the outermost extent of the crane.  With a deep breath, Clint secured his arm around the thick cable and backed up to the edge of the shipping container furthest from the ship.  He shared a look with Natasha and she responded by silently arching an eyebrow at him.

Taking another deep breath, Clint sprinted forwards, just as Nat took a few steps in the same direction.  His free arm grabbing hold of Nat’s waist and her hand curled around his shoulder as they both leapt off the crane.  For a long moment, they flew through the air in a wide arc over the dock.  As soon as they were over the roof of the bridge, Clint let go of Natasha and she dropped and rolled, coming up in a crouch.  Almost immediately, she was moving, her eyes scanning the darkness and alert for anyone who had seen their arrival.  Clint dropped down beside her a second later on silent feet.

With a sharp series of signals, Natasha told him she was going to head down the stairs on the other side of the tower and start looking for the Valkyrie.  Clint nodded and headed for the eastern side of the roof.  Peering over the edge, he waited and watched for the stairs to be clear and hoped he’d avoid the guards watching from the bridge.  “Stark, are you distracting those cameras yet?” he asked.

“Looping the feed… now,” Stark said.

Lying flat on the roof, Clint carefully curled his body of the side of the roof to make sure the guards inside the bridge were looking the other way, before flipping down to land on the top of the stairs.  Immediately, he pressed his back against the wall and ducked below the level of the bridge’s windows, grateful the stairs hadn’t been lit.  It would make it harder for any of the patrolling guards to see Clint.

Even the link seemed tense as Clint crept down the stairs, bow held out in front of him and arrow nocked into the string.  Although, that could just have been Phil, who was radiating tension and worry.  Clint spared a second to send him a few reassuring thoughts, because this certainly wasn’t the first time he’d mounted a rescue mission and the conditions were certainly far from the worst he’d ever been in.

“Barton, there’s a guard coming,” Stark’s terse voice said.  “One flight below you and he always looks up.”

_Go inside through the door on this level.  I think there’s a way down on the inside._

Clint followed Phil’s instructions by instinct and without question.  Phil might not be his handler in the field any more, but he had been for years and Clint still instinctively trusted him to always steer him in the right direction.  Slipping up to the metal door, Clint turned the handle as gently as he could, hoping the door would both be unlocked.  The door was rusted around the edges, the once white paint peeling and Clint hoped the door wasn’t about to make some sort of sound loud enough to give his position away.

Luckily, the door opened easily and Clint managed to slip through just as the guard stepped out onto the staircase right below him.  Inside the ship, the metal corridors were dimly lit be unevenly spaced electrical lights that had been duct taped to the walls, wires running between them.  Clint could also see the cameras Anderson’s men had installed and he was grateful Stark was around to keep them busy.

“Hawkeye, Black Widow: we’ve reached the base of the tower and we’re holding position on deck,” Steve said, his voice echoing slightly over the radio.  “Do you need backup?”

“Negative,” Clint replied as softly as he could.  “I’m inside the tower and heading towards Phil’s location.”

Hearing something just around the corner of the corridor, Clint stopped dead in his tracks and realized it was probably another guard on patrol.  Phil had been right; Anderson’s men and the security measures they’d set up _were_ paranoid.  They’d clearly been expecting someone to try and take Phil back.  Looking around for a place to hide, Clint spotted a doorway to his left.  The thick metal door was too big to risk opening, not when it was even rustier than the one he’d entered through, so Clint simply used the wall to boost himself upwards.  He braced himself at the very top of the doorway, wedged in behind some piping, and unless the guard directly at the top of that particular doorway, Clint would remain unseen.

His heart beating faster in his chest as another wave of adrenaline flooded him, Clint waited the seemingly endless minute until the guard patrol turned the corner.  From his position, Clint spotted two guards walking slowly down the corridor and pressed himself further behind the metal piping, but he didn’t need to have bothered.  Though both men had their hands on their weapons as they walked right by Clint, neither one looked up.  One of the guards was even eating a donut, which just made Clint roll his eyes at the cliché.  Waiting until Clint couldn’t hear their soft footsteps anymore he took a deep breath and silently dropped down from his hiding place. 

 Continuing down the corridor, turned the corridor where the guards had come from and found a set of metal stairs leading downwards.  _I found the stairs_ , he told Phil though the link as he grinned briefly.

 _About time_ , Phil replied and Clint could almost see the grin fighting the impatient expression on his face.  _Do you think you could hurry up the dashing rescue plan a little?_

 _Is the distressed damsel getting impatient?_ Clint quipped back, his grin growing.

However, when Clint was a few steps away from the stairs, he heard the unmistakable sounds of the guards heading back in his direction.  Mentally cursing, Clint looked around for a hiding spot, but this time there were no convenient doorways.  Doing the only thing he could think of, Clint simply vaulted over the railing and dropped to the floor below, the landing sending sharp pain up both his legs, even though he attempted to land in a crouch to lessen the impact.

“Okay, I’m heading down to check on the prisoners,” Clint heard one of the guards say above him, the man’s voice surprisingly loud and thick with a Russian accent.

Knowing he only had seconds before the guard headed down the stairs and spotted him, Clint sank into a tiny patch of dim shadow underneath the actual stairs and stilled in his crouch, hoping the guard wouldn’t look in his direction; even frozen in the shadows as he was, Clint was still clearly visible against the peeling white metal walls behind him.  Thankfully, the guard seemed to be more concerned about complaining about the humidity and lighting a cigarette than paying attention to his surroundings.

Taking advantage of the guard’s inattention, Clint silently nocked an arrow and took careful aim.  The arrow made the guard’s body jerk as it hit, before the man crumpled towards the floor.  Clint darted out from underneath the stairs before the body could hit and dragging the body back under the stairs, where it would hopefully be less visible.  Clint carefully removed the arrow too, not wanting to advertise his presence if anyone found the body.  With their links to SHIELD, Clint was betting all of Anderson’s men knew who Hawkeye was and what weapon he preferred.

Then Clint was struck by an idea.  There were still an unknown amount of guards patrolling the corridors between him and Phil, and even with Stark helping out via the camera feeds, sneaking past them all would be a challenge.  Walking passed them, on the other hand, would be a hell of a lot easier.  Acting quickly, Clint stripped the guard of his pseudo-military uniform jacket and tugged it on over his t-shirt.

Thankfully, the rest of Clint’s gear was similar enough to the rest of the uniform to pass, particularly in the dim light.  He hesitated about what to do about his quiver for a second, before simply shrugging it back over his shoulder.  If he kept it to the side, it would mostly be hidden anyway and there was no way Clint was leaving his arrows behind.  As a final touch, Clint grabbed the guard’s black cap and pulled it down low over his face.

Stepping out into the corridor, Clint began heading in the direction the link was drawing him in.  With a frustrated curse, Clint realized he was still a level too high in the tower and the only way down seemed to be the outside staircase.  Hoping his impromptu disguise would be enough to fool any guards he came across, he hesitated for a moment to debate the insanity of what he was about to do, but it wasn’t like he could think of a better option.  Clint injected as much confidence into his bearing as he could, took a deep breath and stepped outside onto the staircase.

 _So far, so good_ , he thought.

 _You’re fine.  Just breathe.  The guard just passed by the room I’m in, heading away from your location._   Phil’s words were soothing and calm, just like they would be over the radio, and Clint found himself taking an automatic deep breath.

“Shit, we have a problem!” Stark said suddenly, his voice sounding roughly in Clint’s ear over the radio.  “Barton, how close are you to finding Coulson?”

“Stark, what’s the problem?” Steve demanded.

“Anderson!  He’s _here_ ,” Stark said, interrupting Clint’s reply.  Whatever Clint had been going to say died in his throat when he registered Stark’s words.  “The satellite feed shows two SUVs heading straight for the docks.”

As Clint watched, two shiny black, out-of-place SUVs screeched to a halt on the dock below, scattering the Thai mercenaries in surprise.  Almost immediately, four thugs with assault rifles climbed out, glancing all around them as if they expected something threatening to jump out from the shadows.  Anderson got out of the backseat of the second of the two SUVs a second later, his expensive-looking silk shirt rumpled and his expression furious.  He barked a few sharp orders and sent both the thugs and the Thai mercenaries spreading out across the dock.

“It gets worse,” Clint said watching the scene below as dread twisted his stomach.  “Anderson knows we’re here.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I think I should start by apologizing for how long this took to update. I'm sorry I left everyone on a cliffhanger! I also want to say thank you for everyone who is reading this and those who commented! This is officially the longest thing I have posted ever and it really made my day to know people were reading it and waiting for updates! You guys rock :D
> 
> Just a quick warning for this chapter: there are swear words in here again.

Clint felt the spike of adrenaline hit his bloodstream as he began bolting down the stairs. They needed to get out _now_. He barely glanced at the mercenaries and Anderson’s men, but he did see enough to notice confusion was giving way to an organized search pattern and he knew it was only moments before someone alerted the guards inside the tower.

“I thought Fury was supposed to be keeping Anderson distracted?” Stark growled. “How did hell did he get away from SHIELD?”

“Can we talk about that later?” Steve replied, tension clear in his voice. “Hawkeye, Black Widow: how close are you to getting the prisoners out?”

Clint ignored whatever response Natasha gave, his attention immediately shifting as he caught a flash of movement to his right. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he spotted one of the guards rounding the corner of the tower almost the second his boots hit the landing. Clint ducked his head, hoping the brim of the hat would hide his face. He hadn’t come this far to be caught now.

“Hey!”

The guard’s shout was rough and Clint heard the distinct sound of footsteps behind him as he headed for the door leading into the tower. His hand automatically tightened around his bow at the heavy steps and the fingers of his other hand brushed against one of his hidden knives. “What are you doing?” the guard demanded.

Careful to keep his back to the voice and his face averted, Clint attempted to ignore the way his heart pounded and prepared to try and bluff his way out. “Boss ordered me to go and check on the prisoners,” he said, injecting a thick Russian accent into his voice in an attempt to sound like the guard he had killed.

Behind him, he heard the ominous sound of the safety catch of a gun being removed. “Nice try, but you’re not Sergei,” the guard said in a hard voice. “Keep your hands where I can see them and turn around  _slowly_.”

_Clint!_

Ignoring Phil’s edge of panic and Steve’s increasingly terse calls for him to report in, Clint forced his body to appear relaxed as the tips of his fingers brushed across the hilt of his knife. The radio on the guard’s belt crackled into life a second later, stilling Clint’s movement to pull the knife from its hidden sheath. Clint gritted his teeth with an inward curse when he realized it was the alert he’d been dreading. “All positions check in,” a voice ordered sharply; Clint could only assume it was Anderson himself. “The Avengers are on site. Do  _not_  let them reach the prisoners!”

“Well, shit,” the guard behind Clint said. “You must be the infamous Hawkeye. We were warned about you.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” Clint quipped.

“Hey, quit that!” the guard snapped, clearly having spotted Clint’s attempts to surreptitiously pull out a knife. “Hands up. Now.”

 _Hang on, Clint_.

Clint wasn’t sure what Phil meant by that considering Clint was supposed to be  _rescuing_  Phil, but he wasn’t about to wait around to find out. Conscious of the gun still behind him, Clint slowly moved his arms out away from his sides, the bow in one hand clearly visible and heard the guard take a step towards him.

Taking the only opportunity he figured he was going to get, Clint moved. Pivoting sharply on his foot, he kicked out and slammed his other boot into the guard’s wrist to throw off the guard’s aim. Clint heard the bullet ricochet off the metal wall beside him, as he nocked an arrow into his bow and fired.

“Has anyone got eyes on Barton?” Clint heard Steve ask over the radio.

“I’m heading back inside the tower, Cap,” Clint answered softly now that he could, nocking another arrow into his bow. “Second level down. East side.”

Above him, he could hear the startled shouts and pounding footsteps as the guards reacted to the sound of the gunshot. Clint ignored them for now in favor of kicking open the large metal door racing inside the tower. A startled looking guard stood on the other side with his gun pointed at Clint, but Clint shot him before he could react.

“Damn, Barton, you couldn’t have said something earlier?” Stark griped.

“Well, I would have Stark, but I was too busy trying not to get shot,” Clint sniped back, the smartass comment was automatic even though he was focused on the sudden and dizzying sensation of not being able to feel Phil anymore. He hadn’t realized just how used to the low pulse of the _Philspace_ in the back of mind he was until it had gone so eerily quiet.

_Phil?_

Clint hated the vulnerable and needy edge to the way he called out for Phil, but Phil was supposed to _be there_ , a steady and reassuring presence in the back of his mind. Now that he’d had it, Clint wasn’t sure he could handle it not being there. It was supposed to be _permanent_.

“Clint, you had better do whatever you’re going to do fast,” Steve said, his voice breaking through Clint’s thoughts. “Anderson’s men definitely know someone’s in the tower. They’re heading straight for it.”

“Where’s Nat?” Clint asked, starting to run down the corridor.

“I’m heading down to the main deck with the Valkyrie,” Nat said softly and after so many years of working with Clint she must have heard something in Clint’s voice because she kept talking. “We’re taking the stairs on the west side of the tower. Do whatever you need to do Clint.”

“Look guys, not that I don’t appreciate knowing that Agent Romanov is on her way out with the Valkyrie, because I do,” Stark interrupted, “but what the hell happened to Anderson? Cap, please tell me that either you or the Thunder God can see him, because he’s not on the dock anymore.”

Clint felt something cold twist in his stomach. Without the tug of the _Philspace_ , Clint didn’t know exactly where Phil was anymore, but this wasn’t Clint’s first rescue mission and he’d kick down every door on the ship if he had too.

“Son of a bitch!” Stark said suddenly. “Please tell me someone else saw that! Anderson just… JARVIS, please tell me you managed to record those energy readings…”

Clint froze in his tracks, every instinct screaming. The fact that he heard Steve hiss a low, muffled curse proved that whatever had just happened was _beyond_ bad. Clint couldn’t tell if his heart wanted to pound right out of his chest or stop beating altogether.

“Clint.” Immediately he focused on the sound of Nat’s firm, even voice. “There was a flash of light and Anderson reappeared in the middle of the dock. He has Coulson.”

Something deep inside Clint gave a shudder and cracked. “Was… was the light… blue?” he asked, surprised to hear his voice shaking. However, it didn’t stop him shooting the guard attempting to sneak up on him without even looking.

“Yes.”

Stark cursed. “That son of a bitch is using HYDRA’s Tesseract device to _teleport_. That’s how he got away from SHIELD.”

“Teleport?” Bruce echoed, sounding shocked.

Clint had forgotten that Bruce, Jane and Pepper were still listening in to the mission over the radio. He blocked out whatever else Bruce and Stark were saying, even when Jane joined in. Instead, he turned sharply on his heel and sprinted for the stairs outside, calling Phil’s name through the link the whole time. Phil didn’t reply.

He burst out onto the landing, arrow nocked and ready to fire, and felt his heart stop in his chest. Phil was kneeling in the middle of the dock, hands bound behind his back. Clint felt his anger surge at the fresh trails of blood dripping down from Phil’s wrists and the bruise blossoming dark blue at Phil’s temple. Behind him stood an average-looking man with dark hair, holding a gun to the back of Phil’s head. Around them the air shimmered faintly with the blue light of Tesseract energy.

“Avengers, I know you’re out there,” the man yelled; Clint recognized the voice as Anderson’s from the radio. “Throw your weapons down and come out where I can see you, or Agent Coulson gets a bullet to the back of the head.”

Clint’s fingers holding the arrow twitched. He felt almost numb now, as if his body was so overloaded with fear and anger that he was going into shock. “Clint, can you pass on a message to Agent Coulson?” Steve asked quietly.

“I’m waiting, Avengers!” Anderson yelled. “Oh, and in case Hawkeye is getting any ideas, his arrows can’t get through my shield. The second he tries, Agent Coulson is dead.”

“Sorry, Cap,” Clint replied and even to his own ears, his voice sounded hollow. “But whatever that energy around them is doing, it’s also blocking the link.”

As Clint stared at Phil, feeling helpless, he realized he didn’t _need_ the link to communicate with Phil. They’d been on too many missions and known each other as friends and then lovers for too long not to know each other inside out. Phil’s eyes unerringly locked on his as if Phil had always known where Clint was even without the link. Knowing Phil, he probably had. Phil’s eyes were clear and blue and didn’t even hold a hint of fear, as if he _knew_ Clint would save him. That complete trust and faith always had the power to bring Clint to his metaphorical knees and he still didn’t know what he’d done to prove to Phil he deserved it. But he _did_ know he was _never_ going to give Phil a reason to regret it.

“Guys, I’m going to need a distraction,” he said, feeling his heart settle into a steadier beat the longer he held Phil’s gaze. He almost smiled. That was Agent Phil Coulson; calming and reassuring his assets even when waiting for them to rescue him.

“Do we have a plan?” Stark said. “I thought you said the link was blocked?”

Natasha snorted. “Clint and Coulson don’t need a link to talk,” she said. “I’ve seen them have entire conversations in silence.”

“Then tell us what you need, Hawkeye,” Steve said.

“You have until the count of three!” Anderson bellowed from the dock.

“I will light him up,” Thor growled darkly.

“No, wait,” Stark said. “Do what he says, Cap. I have an idea, but I’m going to need about a minute.”

“One!” Anderson snapped.

Still holding Phil’s gaze, Clint gave a small nod. He knew that Phil would understand. “Two,” Anderson counted.

“We’re here,” Steve called out, stepping out from the shadows on the deck of the ship, arms raised out to his sides.

It was strange to see Captain America without the uniform and the cowl, although even dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt, he still wore the shield strapped to his back. Thor stepped out beside him, hands also out to the side and his hammer nowhere to be seen; unlike Steve, however, Thor had been impossible to convince into wearing anything other than his usual outfit, but he had left the cape at home.

“And the others?” Anderson asked, daring to smirk. “I can see Hawkeye up on his little perch, but I know the Black Widow is still out there. And is Iron Man hiding with her, or did the billionaire not condescend to come?”

Grudgingly and looked pissed as hell, Nat stepped out of the shadows to join Thor and Steve. Clint didn’t know what had happened to the Valkyrie, but he hoped she was safe.

Anderson’s eyes sparked blue with a sudden flare of anger, but his smirk never changed. Clint shivered. “And what about the monster? Is he hiding out there too?”

 “Should we be taking offense at that?” Stark asked, but his voice was hushed and Clint could hear the scuff of gravel under boots as he spoke.

Keeping his aim fixed on Anderson, Clint flicked his gaze out past the parked SUVs to the other side of the perimeter fence. His sharp eyes picked out movement in the shadows and as he watched, a figure crept through the hole in the fence. He smirked when he realized it was Stark. On silent feet, Stark snuck right up to one of the black SUVs. From this angle, Clint could see Stark crouch down behind the SUV and slip out a knife, before he pried the cap of the fuel tank.

“Stark, what are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“Just providing the little distraction you wanted,” Stark replied and Clint could hear the grin in his voice. “Thor, you might want to get ready to light these bastards up in about thirty seconds.”

Clint watched Stark expertly place something small on the inside of the petrol tank, before he began to move quickly away from the SUV. “Twenty seconds before the fireworks start,” Stark warned.

“Hawkeye!” Anderson called out. “You want to put down the bow?”

Flicking his gaze back to Phil’s, Clint kept a mental countdown in his head and watched Phil’s lips quirk into an understanding and defiant smile. “No,” Clint called back. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Not even to save the life of your beloved agent?” Anderson called.

A smirk grew across Clint’s face as his mental countdown ticked down to zero. “That’s the thing about Phil,” he called out to Anderson. “He doesn’t need me to save him.”

Anderson narrowed his eyes, there colour glinted that dangerous blue, but before he could say anything or demand Clint lower his bow again, the dock exploded into chaos. Behind Anderson, the SUV exploded into bright flame as Stark’s explosive device did its work. The mercenaries on the dock scattered, some stumbling and yelling as they tried to avoid the pieces of hot metal now falling from the sky.

As soon as the SUV went up, Thor called his hammer to him and he and Steve leapt off the ship’s deck into the scattered crowd of mercenaries. Natasha disappeared, but Clint knew she was always at her most deadly when you couldn’t see her. But it was Phil that had Clint’s smirk turning into a broad grin. The second Anderson’s attention had shifted to the exploded SUV, he’d jerked backwards and slammed his shoulder into Anderson’s knee. Anderson went down with a strangled yell, the blue energy around him flickering out.

Clint let out a breath, preparing to send his arrow flying, except Thor took that exact moment to light up the entire dock with his lightning and Clint had to turn his face away from the blinding flash. When he could see again, the first thing he saw was Anderson, his eyes glowing the eerie blue of the Tesseract, slashing a knife towards Phil. Phil dodged, jerking backwards, but his hands were still bound behind him and there was only so much he could do, badass or not.

Letting out another breath, Clint followed Anderson with his arrow, waiting for the moment to send it flying. But he didn’t need to. Feeling his mouth drop open with shock, Clint watched as that blue energy shimmered suddenly in the air around Phil, growing brighter, until with a flash it seemed to explode outwards. The wave of energy caught Anderson and sent him airborne, before he slammed into the side of the abandoned warehouse with enough force to crash completely through the wall.

“Holy shit,” Clint muttered. “Okay, that’s new.”

With a start, Clint realized the link in the back of his mind was humming noisily again, right as he felt Phil’s own shock and trace of fear. _Did I just do that?_

_Yeah, Phil, I think you did._

_Please tell me this does_ not _mean I have superpowers. I can handle Stark and aliens and Fury on a bad day, but I_ do not _want superpowers._

Down on the dock, the mercenaries and the remains of Anderson’s men were still fighting Thor, Steve and Nat, but their enthusiasm was distinctly lacking after they watched their leader fly through the warehouse’s wall. Above him, Clint could still hear the shouting of the guards from the bridge, but now it seemed more to be about how they were going to get out of there than chasing any of the Avengers down.

“Okay, am I going crazy, or did the Super Agent just _throw someone into a wall without his hands_?” Stark said.

_Clint?_

Feeling the desperate need pouring off Phil, Clint watched Phil turn to look at him again and suddenly wondered what the hell he was still doing standing like an idiot on the stairs instead of being beside Phil. “No, you’re not going crazy,” Clint told Stark as he tried to figure out the fastest way down to the dock. “He did.”

Stark cursed. “I don’t think my brain can handle Super Agent actually _having_ superpowers.”

Deciding to hell with it, Clint simply slung his bow over his shoulder, made sure his quiver was secure and vaulted over the railing. It would have been easier with rope, but Clint had never let that stop him before. Angling his body carefully before he let go, he twisted as he let go of the railing and landed on the landing below. Crossing to the other side of the landing, Clint vaulted over the railing again, but this time he simply dropped down onto the deck and rolled. Not even pausing, Clint ran for the edge of the cargo ship’s deck and leapt onto a stack of handily placed crates, before dropping down onto the dock in a crouch.

_You just like to show off, don’t you?_

Clint felt the grin curve his face as a rush of relief grew with every step he took closer to Phil. _I’m not the one who telekinetically threw someone through a wall five minutes ago._

Jogging forward, still grinning like a maniac, Clint headed straight for Phil. A small place deep inside his heart warmed at the way the rest of the Avengers involved in the rescue mission had gathered protectively around him. Even Stark was there and Thor was now holding up a delicate-looking blonde as well as his hammer while she clung to him. Clint even saw that Natasha had carefully cut Phil free of his bonds after her own moment of reassurance that he was whole and safe, but mostly his attention was just fixed on Phil.

The bruises were still clear down Phil’s arms and underneath the trails of now dried blood on his wrists and Clint could see more marks decorating the skin around the neck of the dirty white t-shirt Phil wore. The bruise of his temple had grown larger and darker and the side of his jaw was still coloured purple, but as clichéd as it sounded, Clint had never seen a better sight in his life. Phil was _alive_ and _safe_ and Clint was never, ever going to stop being grateful for that.

Ignoring the rest of the Avengers and whatever it was that Stark had just said, Clint didn’t stop until he’d stepped into Phil’s waiting arms. He felt himself pulled firmly against Phil’s strong chest and Clint pressed his face into Phil’s neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his lover as his hands fists in the back of Phil’s t-shirt. “Phil,” he whispered shakily, his whole body beginning to tremble as he was hit by the memories of everything he’d been through that had led to this one, perfect moment of having Phil back in his arms.

“I’ve got you,” Phil whispered back, his voice just as thick with emotion.

Gathered up in Phil’s arms and hearing the steady beat of Phil’s heart against his own, Clint gave in to the tears that he’d been holding back ever since Fury had given him the news of Phil’s supposed death and disappearance and sobbed silently into Phil’s shoulder. Phil ran his hand soothingly up and down Clint’s back and into his hair, dislodging the hat he still wore, before Phil tugged it off and tossed it somewhere. Clint didn’t really care.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Phil whispered, his lips brushing the skin at Clint’s temple.

Clint felt a blush stain his cheeks faintly even as his tears subsided and he finally pulled back enough to look at Phil. “No, I’m really not,” he said, but Phil simply put a finger on Clint’s lips to silence him.

“Yes, you are,” Phil replied, before he moved his finger so he could gently cup Clint’s face with his palms. Gently, his thumbs brushed the trails of tears from Clint’s cheeks. Looking directly into Phil’s eyes, Clint shivered a little at all the emotions he saw reflected in the usually guarded gaze. “Thank you for coming to find me, Clint.”

“ _Always_ ,” Clint said fervently.

With a smile that lit up his eyes, Phil leant down and captured Clint’s lips with his. The contact made Phil wince a little in pain from his split lip, but when Clint moved to pull back, Phil fisted his hands in the fabric of the jacket Clint still wore to keep him anchored against him. In response, Clint pressed closer as his hands slid underneath Phil’s t-shirt to stroke the firm muscles of Phil’s back and the warm, alive skin that covered them. He opened his mouth under Phil’s, gladly losing sense of everything except for the press of Phil’s skin against his palms and the way Phil was real and alive and safe.

Finally, they pulled away from each other, and Clint rested his forehead against Phil’s for a moment. “I love you,” he said softly. He felt Phil’s answering feeling of love hum through the bond.

Then Clint leaned back as he felt his characteristic humour returning. “And can I just say, you would look _really_ hot in tights,” he grinned.

“Clint,” Phil warned.

He opened his mouth to retort, but naturally, that was the moment SHIELD turned up. “Oh, goody. Fury’s here,” Stark said dryly.

Clint spared a glance at the flurry of black vehicles arriving, before looking over at Stark. He was actually surprised that Stark had gone this long without commenting, particularly considering the pretty private moment he and Phil had just shared in front of the genius billionaire and the rest of the Avengers. Clearly though, Clint had underestimated Stark, because when he moved, it was to stand in _front_ of Clint and Phil, his back turned towards them, as if trying to both protect and shield them from the arriving agents. Clint really appreciated the gesture, even if he didn’t particularly care what the rest of SHIELD witnessed right now.

Fury appeared in an imposing swirl of black leather, Agent Hill behind him barking orders as SHIELD agents poured out of the black cars. “Somebody tell me that they have Anderson,” Fury growled as he stalked towards the Avengers.

“Lose something, Fury?” Stark said dryly and Clint could have warned the billionaire not to poke the proverbial tiger right now, but it would be more fun to watch the fireworks. From the amused hum from the bond, Phil agreed with him more than a little.

“The motherfucker teleported on me,” Fury snapped. “You did not tell me he could do that!”

“Well, in our defense we didn’t actually know that either,” Stark grumbled.

Clint hid his grin against Phil’s shoulder, surprised Fury hadn’t spotted Phil yet. Then again, Steve and Thor were both standing in the way and neither the super-soldier nor the demigod could be described as small. “You need not worry,” Thor boomed and Clint could hear a surprising amount of pride in his voice. “The Son of Coul vanquished this Anderson by throwing him through a wall with magic. I doubt he will regain the ability to teleport before we can place him in chains.”

For the first time in his entire life with SHIELD, Clint saw an expression of complete surprise cross Fury’s face. “You found Coulson?” he said. Then he blinked. “And he did _what_?”

“Telekinetically threw Anderson through a wall,” Stark confirmed with a large grin. “It was beautiful.”

Behind Fury, Agent Hill’s face had gone startlingly pale and she was stared at them with wide eyes and at least half of the SHIELD agents had stopped dead in their tracks to turn and stare at the Avengers with varying degrees of horror. Reluctantly, Phil pulled himself away from Clint and moved to step out from behind Steve and Thor. Before he could move too far away, Clint reached out and tangled their fingers together, uncaring of who saw. Phil could complain about discretion tomorrow; for the rest of today, Clint wasn’t letting him outside of arm’s reach.

“I can actually explain this one, Boss,” Phil said.

The expression on Fury’s face the moment he saw Phil proved to everyone that he’d been grieving for Phil as much as everyone else. “Phil,” he said with an actual grin.

But before Fury could say anything else, the Valkyrie still standing limply in Thor’s arms gave a low groan. Clint watched with a sort of unsurprised horror as Eir staggered out of Thor’s grasp, a shiny silver knife in her hand and a fearful look in her wide, blue eyes. She was battered, bruised and weak, and even with the look in her eyes that screamed she didn’t want to do this, Eir advanced on Fury brandishing the knife in an obvious threat.

Behind Fury, several SHIELD agents immediately went for their guns, including Hill, just as Thor stepped forward in a clear attempt to stand between Eir and Fury. In typical fashion, however, it was Phil that acted first. Narrowing his eyes as he dropped Clint’s hand, the blue light of Tesseract energy sparked around him for a moment, before a glowing blue sphere abruptly sprang up around Eir, holding her in place before she could take more than a step towards Fury. Phil frowned slightly in concentration as Eir turned to look at him, relief and gratitude in her eyes, before she suddenly went limp. Thor leapt forward to catch her unconscious body as the blue sphere disappeared.

“Well,” Phil said thoughtfully in the following silence. “At least we know what Anderson was taking her away for now.”

“You know, no one believes me when I tell them this shit,” Fury said dryly, his tone holding a certain amount of resignation.

Phil turned on his with an incredulous eyebrow. “With all due respect, Director,” he said. “You’re not the one who has to deal with it on a daily basis.”

Clint felt a grin curve his lips, despite the sudden turn in events. Fury sighed and closed his eye for a second. “Just… explain it to me in the report, Phil,” he muttered. “And for the record, I’m really glad to have you back.”

“I’m glad to be back, Boss,” Phil replied.

Straightening with a final fond look in Phil’s direction, Fury turned to direct his one-eyed glare on the SHIELD agents behind him. “Hill, tell me we have Anderson in custody,” he barked, stalking off again.

“Actually, about that,” Stark said, surging forwards to follow him. “Anderson’s dirty secrets actually weren’t as hidden as he thought they were. JARVIS and I found them in about an hour, which is pathetic frankly, but a few of them might help if you want to…”

Stark paused and turned back to grin at Phil. “For the record, Agent, I’m glad you’re back too,” he said.

Phil gave him a small nod. “I appreciate you coming to find me, Stark,” he said.

Stark grinned. “Well, we did save the world for you. The least you could do was be around to enjoy it.”

As Stark turned around to jog over to where Fury was glaring down at the now chained and clearly sedated Anderson, Thor moved to nod at Phil. “It is indeed good to have you back, Son of Coul,” he said with a smile.

Walking off, still cradling Eir, Thor headed towards the small medical area a few SHIELD agents had set up. Steve watched him for a moment, before turning a worried glance on Stark, but for once, it appeared as if Stark was not irritating everyone around him. Then, straightening his shoulders, he turned back to Phil. Clint watched the whole thing with amusement, sharing a grin with Natasha. Or rather, he grinned at Nat and she arched an amused eyebrow back at him.

“Agent Coulson, I just wanted to say thank you for your sacrifice during a time of crisis,” Steve said formerly, looking every inch the soldier he was supposed to be. Then his eyes narrowed and on anyone else, Clint would have called the expression distinctly pissed. “Although if you ever do something like that again, it won’t be Agents Barton and Romanov you should be worried about. Don’t give me a reason to be present while you’re unconscious.”

Phil looked slightly wide-eyed at the reprimand from his childhood idol, although his lips did quirk at Steve’s last words. “Or watch me while I was sleeping?” he asked with a smile, amusement lighting up his eyes.

Clint blinked, glancing between Phil and the now smiling Captain America. “Or that,” Steve agreed.

“Oh, someone has to tell me this story,” Clint said. Nat looked equally intrigued.

To Clint’s surprise, Phil blushed slightly. “Oh my God,” Clint said, realization dawning. “You fanboyed all over him, didn’t you?” Then Clint’s eyes widened as Phil and Steve’s words echoed in his memory. “Phil… did you tell Captain America you _watched him while he was sleeping_?”

Natasha vainly tried to hold in a laugh as Phil’s blush deepened. Even Steve looked embarrassed. “It wasn’t that bad,” he said.

“It’s all right, Captain,” Phil said with a sigh. “It really _was_ that bad. You can let them laugh.”

Clint desperately tried to hold in his own laughter because Phil’s near-obsession with anything Captain America was just an adorable part of who he was, but the idea of the normally completely contained and professional agent going creepy-fan over Steve was too hilarious for words. Then Clint caught Nat’s eyes and he just couldn’t contain it anymore. They both burst out laughing so hard they almost fell over. Beside him, Phil sighed.

“You know,” Clint heard Steve say over the sound of his and Natasha’s giggles. “You really should just call me Steve.”

There was a pause for a moment and Clint tried really hard to get his laughter under control. Sucking in a deep breath, Clint finally managed to straighten and immediately moved to wind his hands around Phil’s waist. “I’m sorry,” he told Phil, feeling slightly bad for laughing.

“I forgive you,” Phil replied and not only could Clint feel through the link between them that Phil wasn’t mad or upset, he could see the hint of his own humour in Phil’s eyes. “You did after all just rescue me in a daring and dashing way,” he added in a complete deadpan.

Clint grinned. “I am awesome like that,” he agreed.

Steve smiled, looking between them, before he glanced around at the SHIELD agents swarming around the dock, the tied up mercenaries and the still smoking crater where one of Anderson’s black SUVs had once been before Stark and his explosives had gotten to it. “Is it _always_ this crazy working for SHIELD?” Steve asked finally.

“You mean do missions usually involve alien invasions, kidnapped Valkyries, devices that control unlimited energy and SHIELD’s most deadly agents falling about laughing?” Phil asked.

Steve nodded.

“Oh yeah,” Clint replied.

“All the time,” Natasha agreed.

Phil gave him a commiserating smile. “You get used to it.”


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story. I know I've said it before, but I really, really appreciate it and the feedback :)

“One extra large cup of coffee and a stack of the best pancakes in the world,” Clint announced with a grin, placing the plate and mug in front of Phil with a flourish.  “Breakfast of badasses.”

In response, Phil simply looked up from where he was leisurely reading the newspaper and rolled his eyes.  “Not that I don’t appreciate the effort, but you don’t need to fuss,” he said softly.

“Maybe I want to,” Clint said, coming around the kitchen counter to wrap his arms around Phil from behind.  “And maybe I just want to make sure you eat something before someone steals you away for another bunch of meetings.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Phil said, turning in Clint’s arms with the hint of a smile.  “I’m officially on medical leave.  Fury threatened to dismember anyone who bothered me.”

“Is that so?” Clint grinned as Phil pulled him even closer.  Clint went willingly, slipping between Phil’s legs and sliding his arms up to curl around Phil’s neck.

“Mmm hmmm,” Phil replied and tilted his head up to look at Clint with grey-blue eyes full of amusement as his warm hands settled on Clint’s hips.

Between them, the link hummed with a warm contentment.  Even now that Phil was back, the bond still buzzed and sparked in the back of Clint’s mind and they’d both adapted to it with surprising ease and sometimes when Clint closed his eyes in his sappier moments, he could almost imagine it as a thread of glowing energy that tied him forever to Phil.

Because a soft, smiling Phil was impossible to resist, Clint leant down to steal a long, languid kiss.  “Does that mean I can persuade you to try a little breakfast in bed, Agent Coulson?” Clint asked when he finally raised his head.

“Well…” Phil began.

“Seriously, Pep, Fury’s face was epic!  Phil… do you think he’ll mind if I call him Phil?  Phil was _awesome_.”  Clint groaned softly as Stark’s loud voice ruined the moment.  He let his forehead fall softly to rest against Phil’s, before he brushed his lips against Phil’s in a brief kiss and stepped away.

Relocating to Stark Tower probably wouldn’t have been Clint’s first choice for Phil’s medically-enforced vacation, but apparently not even SHIELD was prepared for senior agents to come back from the dead.  The last three days had been hard on everyone, but particularly on Phil; he’d been poked and prodded by medical and then by most of SHIELD’s scientific research department.  Even Stark, Bruce and Jane had had a go.

Everyone had given Phil the all clear – although Clint wasn’t sure he _ever_ wanted to relive the experience of telling Fury about the link between him and Phil _ever_ again – but he was still healing slowly.  Bruises still marked his jaw, arms and chest and his skin was still a shade too pale for Clint’s liking.  The series of meetings to deal with what SHIELD was going to do about the World Security Council and when they would be able to return the still recovering Eir to Asgard Fury had pulled Phil into hadn’t helped much with that either.

Clint hid his sigh behind his coffee cup as Stark walked backwards into the kitchen, grinning madly, as he recounted the moment Phil had discovered what Fury had done to Phil’s Captain America cards yet again, Pepper following with a fond but exasperated look on her face.  Losing his apartment and having the remains of his belongings placed in SHIELD-sanctioned storage, Phil had taken in stride with barely a flicker of expression, but the loss of his trading cards…  For the rest of his life, Clint will never forget the image of Phil glaring narrow-eyed at Fury in the middle of the Helicarrier’s bridge and asking very pointedly _exactly what_ the Director of SHIELD was going to do to make it up to him.  Even Stark had looked on in awe.  Fury, knowing precisely how dangerous a pissed off Phil could be for fucking with the continued efficient running of SHIELD had caved pretty spectacularly.  The junior agents had talked about nothing else since.  It had been rather hilarious to watch Sitwell’s jaw go slack.

“I think I’m going to build him…” Stark said, breaking off as he turned around and saw Phil sitting at the kitchen counter.  “Oh, morning _Phil_ ,” he greeted with a smirk.

Phil took a sip of coffee.  “It’s all right, Stark,” he said, not even blinking at Stark’s use of his first name.  “I really don’t care what kind of Doomsday device you’re planning on building in your basement.”  His eyes slid to the amused looking Pepper Potts.  “Morning, Pepper.”

“Morning, Phil,” she replied.  “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you,” Phil answered.

Stark glared narrowed-eyed between them before he pointed an accusing finger in Phil’s direction.  “Okay, what happened to the Agent Coulson who always threatened to taze me if I even remotely disobeyed the rules?”

Clint bit back another smirk as he grabbed his own plate of pancakes and took a seat next to Phil.  “Most of SHIELD thinks donuts are Phil’s kryptonite,” he said.  “But they’re wrong.  Its chocolate chip pancakes.  Phil and pancakes are like James T. Kirk and nubile young aliens.”

Smirking, Stark looked at Clint as he poured himself his own cup of coffee.  “You know, Barton, you make a hell of a lot of science fiction references.  I’m beginning to think you’re not as worldly as you pretend to be.”

Clint glared at Stark.  “He’s a closet nerd,” Phil replied dryly before Clint could think of an adequate comeback.  “For some reason he doesn’t get enough superheroes and mad scientists in his daily life.”

Turning his glare on Phil, Clint arched an eyebrow.  “Well, it’s better than watching an entire TV program about screaming children, Mr. I-am-not-a-babysitter.  Besides, exactly which one of us is wearing Captain America pajama pants right now?”

Irritatingly, Phil ignored him.  Stark watched them both with a smirk, glancing between them like he was at a tennis match.  After everything the Avengers (plus Pepper, Jane and JARVIS) had done to rescue him, Phil had been surprisingly relaxed in their presence and Clint had to admit he was enjoying it.  The simple comfort of being surrounded by people he could trust and would back him up, even if they bickered ridiculously while doing it, was novel to Clint, but he was beginning to feel that this was what a real family was like.

“You’re lucky he doesn’t have superpowers anymore, Barton,” Stark said.  “Or Phil might throw you through something.”

Stark and Jane had been incredibly disappointed to learn that whatever energy Phil had been able to manipulate to throw Anderson through a wall without touching him had been temporary at best, linked into the proximity of the HYDRA device.  Even Anderson had to touch the device to actually teleport, which was somewhat of a relief; Clint knew from experience, it was damn hard to keep people able to teleport inside jail cells.  Thor had looked so disappointed when he’d been told that Phil didn’t actually have magic that Phil had had to promise to go out drinking with the demigod when he was feeling better.

Phil grimaced even as Clint rolled his eyes.  “Phil wouldn’t do that even if he did still have superpowers, because that would be described as spousal abuse,” he said.

“Or the World Security Council.  I’d pay to see him throw some of those assholes through walls,” Stark continued to mutter.  Then he stopped suddenly and turned back to Clint with narrowed eyes.  “Wait… spousal?” he asked.  “Barton, did you have a wedding and not invite me?”

“Tony…” Pepper began with a sigh, looking up from her PDA.

“Well,” Clint drawled, stretching out the word as he grinned.  “Technically, he did propose.”

Phil froze, a forkful of pancakes halfway to his mouth, before he sighed.  Pepper stared at him, wide-eyed and excited, while Stark just gaped.  “Clint,” he said, sounding as if he couldn’t believe he was about to say whatever it was in front of Stark in his pajamas.  “I thought I was supposed to be taking you out to dinner first?”

_Clint?_

Sensing Phil’s hesitance through the link, along with traces of regret and surprise, Clint suddenly got a glimpse of Phil’s entire master plan for proposing.  Phil hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he was going to buy Clint a ridiculously expensive dinner.  What surprised Clint the most, however, was Phil’s regret at not being able to treat Clint like royalty to show him how much he meant to Phil.

 _You know you don’t need to do that, right?_  Clint sent through the link, hit with a rush of love for the stubborn, intelligent and sneaky man beside him.  He smiled at Phil, catching his gaze and let all his emotions trickle through the bond.  _I don’t need fancy dinners to feel special, Phil.  You manage to do that just fine without them_.

Clint spoke the next words aloud, but his eyes never left Phil’s.  “You just didn’t think that proposing in ‘the middle of a cell in the hands of the enemy’ had the right romantic atmosphere, admit it,” he smirked.  “But having had time to think about it, I came to two conclusions:  one, I don’t care and two, I already said yes, so it totally counts.”

_Are you sure?_

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Clint sent the bond humming.  _Did you_ really _just ask that?_

Pepper gave a delighted grin.  “Oh, Phil, that’s wonderful!” she said.  “I’m so happy for both of you.”

“Yeah,” Stark agreed, looking almost as happy as Pepper about the whole thing.  “And you’re definitely having the wedding at Stark Tower.  It’s legal in New York and everybody knows I throw the best parties anyway.  Oooh, Pepper, remind me to invite Fury the next time I see him.”

“You’ll have to tear him and Agent Hill away from their Machiavellian plotting against the World Security Council to do it,” Phil said dryly.

Stark gave him a look that screamed, _Puh-lease_.  Then he frowned.  “You two have a soppy conversation through your bond-thing every time you gaze soulfully into each other’s eyes, don’t you?”

“Tony, leave them alone,” Pepper instructed.  She moved around the kitchen counter to hug Phil and then to Clint’s surprise, him too.  “Can I just say congratulations again?”

“Indeed, Agent Coulson, may I also offer my congratulations?” JARVIS’ disembodied voice added.

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Phil replied.

Pepper smiled, before fixing a sharp look on Stark.  “Tony, why don’t you walk me to the door?”

Following Pepper and apparently demanding her entire daily schedule, Stark finally left Clint and Phil in relative peace.  Not sure how long it would last being that all the Avengers were in residence at the Tower, Clint immediately turned on his stool towards Phil.  Carefully, he took the fork from Phil’s hand and moved the coffee mug out of reach, before Clint grabbed a fistful of Phil’s shirt and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss.  Phil definitely did not seem to mind and Clint felt a bolt of lust at the dazed look in Phil’s eyes when he finally raised his head.

“Please tell me you’re done with breakfast,” Clint growled in a rough voice.  “Because I really want to move this back to the bedroom right now.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Phil said with a small, amused smile.  “But I’m bringing the coffee.”

Clint grinned because really, he’d been expecting that.  He knew better than to get between Phil and coffee, no matter how lazy and relaxed the morning.  What Clint hadn’t been expecting was what happened next, even with his vivid imagination.  For a second, the hand Phil had stretched out to grab the coffee mug sparked blue.  Wide-eyed, Clint watched as the coffee mug was then surrounded by a nimbus of glowing blue energy and slide across the counter into Phil’s outstretched hand.  Without anyone touching it.

“Huh,” Clint said.

Phil just closed his eyes in resignation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deliberately left the ending open there, because I have a feeling this story is going to end up getting a sequel. I really enjoyed writing it and I think I want to play some more with a superpowered Phil, but a warning that I'm not sure when I'll get around to writing it. I have a few other plot bunnies I want to play with first :)


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